


Idealisation & Devaluation

by vixxeu



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Psychological Drama, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-04-01 04:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixxeu/pseuds/vixxeu
Summary: Hongbin searches for ways to save his dying work, and a certain psychologist teaches him about the different intensities of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ghosts don’t haunt us. That’s not how it works. They’re present among us because we won’t let go of them.
> 
> (Heavy angst, mental illness, mentions of suicide. This piece is very personal to me, and I’m glad to be able to express it through this channel. Also, disclaimer: I’m not a psychologist) Shoutout to my betas who really took the time to read and analyse before giving me detailed feedbacks and corrections: Alicia, Mia & Michelle!
> 
>  

Lee Hongbin never had direction in his life.

He always went with whatever he felt was fit at the moment. He has pursued arts, the field of STEM and meddled a bit in humanities. What he gets in return is emptiness, though; having knowledge in every subject field out there gives him a sense on gratification, but he never feels good enough— not specialised, too generalised. It screams incompetent, and the regrets sit in his mouth like the stale taste of cigarettes.

They tell him it’s because he doesn’t have security in himself; he can’t stay rooted, so he flows. The only feelings he has ever known extensively is sadness, aside from the fleeting moments of laughter he has when he spends time with his grandmother and friends. He neglects the impending doom in his situation, and only tries to cover it up with sad smiles and an ignorance that isn’t all that blissful.

The clock rings, indicating the end of his session. He gets up from the sofa, polite smile on his face as he bows to his psychologist. A grey clipboard is placed on the table, session notes with an ugly scrawl on it. He takes in the sight as he feels an overwhelming weight on his shoulders and chest, his current circumstance obviously far from ideal. The tall man across him notices the heavy sigh that falls from Hongbin’s lips and the unfocused gaze that he holds, and so he sticks a hand out in an attempt to have Hongbin reconcile with the situation.

“It’s nice seeing you, Hongbin.”

He’s startled, but then the same smile returns to his face, dimples appearing ever so slightly with the tight curl of his lips. His eyes wander trying to collect himself, and he remembers to answer when he sees the familiar black name plaque.

_JUNG TAEKWOON, Ph.D_

“Thank you, Dr Jung.”

Hongbin is heading for the door, but turns around when he hears Dr. Jung— Taekwoon, clearing his throat. There is a silence, also an obvious question that's lingering in the air. It makes Hongbin uncomfortable, but he answers anyway, just like how he sits through his waves.

“I’ll see you next week. And… Thanks, Taekwoon.”

And this Jung Taekwoon smiles, all too enthusiastic to pick Hongbin apart and build him up.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Limerence

 

 

 

Behind a messy desk sits Hongbin.

 

His study is littered with trash, piles of notes and crumpled paper taking up the space on the stark, white tiles. There’s hair everywhere too- all Hongbin’s. Packets of chips are scattered across his work space, edging close towards his laptop, the sharp zigzags scratching against his skin ever so lightly as he types, or at least when he’s trying to do so. Cans of coffee are piled at a corner, nestled close to an overflowing ashtray.

 

The trash bin is already filled with failed musings, and Hongbin refuses to step anywhere near it anymore. It reeks of failure, as if the papers are giving off the stuffy stench instead of the lit cigarette in between his lips. He has his third breakdown in the week, not quite understanding what is exactly wrong. There is an ache in his ribs, as if bruises are blooming across it. He can’t exactly pinpoint the sensation that runs through his body, but it feels weird, and all too wrong.

 

He feels terribly inadequate.

 

He sits there blankly, and sucks on his cigarette harshly in order to calm his nerves, taking in as much nicotine as he can. With shaking hands, he throws the remainders of the hazardous stick in his ashtray. His deadline is almost due and his publishing team is going to call and shout at him anytime soon; he has no time for another slump— if you don’t consider this one already. There’s an intense clicking from the keyboard as he types and deletes, erasing more than what he has written. Hongbin is tired, and he wants nothing more than to just lie in the dark, to take his mind off work.

 

Another ache presents itself in his shoulders, there’s a crick in his neck and his eyes are drying up. He takes off his glasses, rubbing at his nose before stretching his sore limbs that have been stuck in the same position for hours. Rotating his wrist to get rid of the numbness from pressing on his median nerve for too long, he sighs. He gives himself a short break and takes a look around the study, mind eager to wander off from work.  

 

There is a shelf filled with books, some that are Hongbin’s works, and then mostly his favourites and classics. His books look lacklustre in comparison; it’s something that people never read, pieces so neglected that a sense of abandonment blossoms in his chest. It overwhelms him, and he leaves the room to grab a can of beer, taking in the bitter liquid. Some say alcohol brings inspiration, some say it’s just to run away from the weight of your art. Hongbin thinks his excuse is the former, but his heart is after the latter.

 

Hongbin, who has put his soul into writing, fears about being the book that no one reads, like his very own works. He is a struggling author whose dreams are non-existent, not even shattered. He’s a train heading towards an unknown destination, putting him in constant existential crises. Regret swims in his head all the time, for not pursuing his passion for biology, his desire to be a jazz musician, giving up sports, not trying out for law school when he failed to get into medicine— the list is never ending, the ignored wishes that his heart still grieves over. He’s stuck in reverse, hanging onto his past mistakes while everyone he knows is moving forward.

 

It’s too late to go after his missed pursuits, he has already lost things that he cannot replace. and he places the beer down on a neglected pile of draft papers, returning back to his seat. Lighting another cigarette, he types away.

 

-

 

The writer is lying on his couch when his editor turns up at his house unexpectedly. There’s crumbs all over his chest, a packet of crisps on his stomach. Bottles of soju and beer clutter the coffee table, along with many unwashed cups. The television is on, but it’s muted. Jaehwan lets himself in and pinches his nose bridge in frustration upon the sight.

 

“I leave you alone for three weeks and this happens!” He barks as he cleans up Hongbin’s apartment. Jaehwan coughs hard when he enters the study, the smell of tobacco far too strong for his liking, combined with the dustiness of the room. Of course, Hongbin didn’t bother vacuuming once in awhile. Sunlight floods the room as he draws the curtain, along with a gush of fresh air when the windows are opened. He stomps back into the living room, frustrated over the state that Hongbin is in.

 

Anger consumes him further as he sees his best friend lying lifelessly, ignoring the ongoing nagging session. “You don’t need me to yell at you, you need a fucking therapist,” Jaehwan points a finger accusingly at Hongbin, trash bag in hand. Hongbin finally gets up from his pitiable position, dusting off the bits of crisps on his shirt, only to offer Jaehwan a drink and his pack of cigarettes. “Thanks,” He mutters before heading back to the couch.

 

“Lee Hongbin.”

 

He lifts his head slightly to look at Jaehwan brokenly, sadness casting a shadow on his face. The dark eye circles that indicate his lack of sleep, and the dishevelled appearance of his hair along with the stubble that’s forming on his chin— all of it breaks Jaehwan’s heart. When he sees that Jaehwan has nothing left to say, he goes back to staring at the mute television.

 

“Fuck,” Jaehwan takes a deep, shaky breath, and puts down the trash bag. Walking towards the couch, he squats by his best friend’s side. He runs his hand through Hongbin’s hair - who is changing the channels on the television aimlessly as he curls up against the cushioning - and caresses it gently. The downcast boy seems to have no reaction, but Jaehwan knows that he’s leaning into the touch subtly.

 

“Before me being an editor that works with you, I am your friend,” Jaehwan starts, leaning his forehead against Hongbin’s as if to place more emphasis on his words. He cradles his face and wipes away at the pool that’s forming in his eyes, “And I worry about you more than deadlines.”

 

Something about what Jaehwan has just said breaks Hongbin, and he starts sobbing. “I’m a horrible writer,” He cries out, after weeks, or maybe even years— but finally, he’s able to let out his unspoken miseries. With his insecurities already on full display, he adds, “And person.”

 

“You’re not horrible, Hongbin. You’re just sad.”

 

Hongbin only peers at him through red eyes, disbelieving; but Jaehwan gives him an earnest expression, and he caves in, “Can we get some fresh air?”

 

-

 

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Jaehwan blows at his cup of coffee, cooling down the hot beverage as steam fogs up his glasses. His legs are tucked in front of his chest and he sighs, enjoying the current atmosphere. Hongbin only nods in agreement, and Jaehwan looks at him, grinning at his acknowledgement.

 

The balcony presents them with a beauty you can seek refuge in, as they watch the sun set into the horizon. Dullness doesn’t exist here, not with the breathtaking sight, city sounds and fresh air adding a touch of liveliness. It doesn’t feel like Hongbin’s home at all, a drastic change from the melancholic space they just came out from. They enjoy the feeling of the cool wind blowing lightly against their bodies, a refreshing feeling taking over them.

 

“Your balcony is a nice place, try writing here?” Jaehwan suggests.

 

“I’ve tried, but I can never write something that’s satisfying. Impactful. Intriguing.”

 

There is an awkward silence, and Hongbin closes his eyes. All he can think of is the need for the addictive nicotine to fill his system now, and so he lights a stick. Sighing, smoke escapes his mouth and he offers Jaehwan one, who is a little dismayed by his avoidance of the topic. He accepts though, joining Hongbin. “I actually quit,” He chuckles a little. Receiving an incredulous look, Jaehwan nods seriously, “But only for you.” He swings his legs out through the fencing of the balcony, letting it dangle against the wind. Hongbin looks away, embarrassed for not knowing that his friend managed to kick the habit, and even more for offering him a smoke.

 

Taking a drag of his cigarette, the editor hums for a bit, “You don’t have to destroy yourself for the sake of writing.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then why do I always find you like this?”

 

That, Hongbin doesn’t know. He wants to stop punishing himself cruelly for every failure that he’s produced, and so he’s stricter with himself with every new project, but he guesses it’s coming to a point where it serves only a destructive purpose. Jaehwan seems to understand his silence, and thinks deeply before replying.

 

“...It’s okay if not many can understand your art.”

 

This grabs the writer’s attention, and he turns his head to look at Jaehwan expecting him to say more, which he does. “The beautiful thing about creative arts is that it’s supposed to be a reflection of our inner soul. You don’t need everyone to understand that.”

 

“I was told I lack emotions, that there’s no depth to my works,” Hongbin says numbly, and then inhales the cancerous fumes nervously, not knowing what Jaehwan truly thinks about his stories, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. He has seen reviews by critics, and if that isn’t proof enough, the sales are pretty stagnant; his books just aren’t flying off the bookshelves or anything. Jaehwan stares into swollen eyes, gaze following the tear tracks across Hongbin’s cheeks. It reminds him of how Hongbin was crying about his purpose, that he can’t move anyone with his words, that he could probably have done better in other areas— and it pulls at his heartstrings, wishing he can do something for his friend, to tell him that he is perfect, just not the circumstances. He senses the regrets that Hongbin is not speaking of, but he knows it’s on his heart and it’s weighing him down.

 

“You know, they say that the grass is always greener on the other side no matter where you’re at.”

 

“What do you mean—”

 

“You shouldn’t regret the fact that you’re writing. It shows.”

 

“Oh,” Hongbin mumbles, and as it sinks in further he says it loudly again. “Oh.”

 

Silence fills the atmosphere again, and Hongbin absentmindedly sips at Jaehwan’s cup of coffee, not quite sure how to react. It makes sense, but he doesn’t know how to fix the issue. Back when he just achieved his high school diploma, he thought writing will be fine since it’s his hobby anyway, but it turned out to be a depressing cage for him. He writes and only thinks about how he can never save lives be it literally or through the law, how he doesn’t have time to organise jam sessions, how he can’t go back to competitive swimming or how he should at least still be doing something biology related.

 

“You can’t always be comparing your situation to another one and think of ‘what if’s,” Jaehwan murmurs, flicking off the cigarette butt and watches it flow its way down. He’s unsure if Hongbin is listening, and so he looks over, only to find that he has already finished his stick and is about to grab another. Jaehwan stops him. “You’re going to die, at this rate.”

 

“If I have to live life like this— that’s the point, isn’t it?” Hongbin whispers, and pries Jaehwan’s hand gently away from his, proceeding to reach for his lighter. A crestfallen look appears on the latter’s face at the small confession, stunned. He regains his composure quickly, not wanting the topic to be changed this time round. “I have a friend who runs a psychiatric clinic. I’m concerned about you, really.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’m not saying you’ve— wait, what?”

 

“I said sure. It’s about time I stop worrying you, right?”

 

“Damn right you are,” Jaehwan punches his arm, and they laugh. “Thank you. For listening to me once, goddamn finally.”

 

“No, no. I should be thanking you.”

 

But Jaehwan is content, Hongbin seeking help is the best thing he can do for himself. He beams at the thought, ruffling the younger’s hair; he’s so happy he can cry.  

 

“And Jaehwan?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You make shit coffee.”

 

Jaehwan pouts as Hongbin earns another punch to the arm, and they giggle as the sun completely disappears into the horizon, red and orange fading into the night skies.

 

-

 

Hongbin arrives outside the entrance of the clinic thirty minutes before his designated time slot, and he winces, not wanting to wait around in anxiety. He decides to walk away and get a cup of coffee at a nearby cafe instead, and then a quick smoke break to ease the butterflies in his stomach.

 

He didn’t expect the phone call to come so soon, especially not the very next day, but Jaehwan must have been afraid that he’ll end up changing his mind. It makes sense, and he sends Jaehwan a text that he’s already on the way to the clinic and he’s not going to bolt. He receives a reply, and it turns out both of them are equally surprised that the appointment is being done today.

 

“Ah. You’re the one who owns a psychiatric clinic?” Hongbin recalls his conversation over the phone with a particular Cha Hakyeon, who mentioned that he’s the head psychiatrist. (He doesn’t remember Jaehwan telling him he has a doctor friend before their conversation at the balcony, and at the realisation he makes a mental note to grill him about it later.) Apparently, he’ll be seen by two people today, as Hakyeon— Dr. Cha had explained when asking about his availability, “I’ve booked you a slot together with one of my psychologists for an evaluation, so it’ll take about an hour and a half. Can you make it at two in the afternoon? Today?”

 

Hongbin could only agree then, because he _does_ have a free schedule for today but when the feeling of trepidation hits, he feels an immense regret for agreeing to come down today. Apprehensive about going back, he chain-smokes five sticks before heading towards the clinic, but the churning in his stomach and heart palpitations still remain. He thinks about many things on the way, not knowing what ‘an evaluation’ will be like. He thinks about what’s bothering him, his insomnia, his perfectionism and all his regrets— planning what to say doesn’t make him less nervous though, if not more.

 

Still immersed in his thoughts, he startles when a nurse greets him as he walks through the glass doors, asking if he’s looking for anyone.

 

A little perturbed, he splutters at the question. “I have an appointment with Dr. Cha Hakyeon? At two?” He says cautiously, as if afraid he may be at the wrong place. The nurse only nods and smiles warmly as she leads him to a room with the number ‘1’ on its door. “He’s waiting for you, you can enter now.”

 

Dr. Cha’s consultation room is minimalistic, barely any form of decoration taking up the space. A hand is extended towards him, and Hongbin accepts the gesture, bowing slightly. The atmosphere almost feels like bizzare— it reminds Hongbin of a light, new beginning, a heavy contrast to the reason why he’s here: to account for his past ghosts. It doesn’t seem real, the very idea of being helped seemingly impossible. He feels as if he’s watching this scene through a screen, like a movie.   

 

“It’s nice to see you. I’ve heard some things from Jaehwan already, but I need to hear more from you. Let’s wait for Dr. Han so we can introduce ourselves formally and start,” The psychiatrist smiles. He has a friendly face and tanned skin, and looks a little too young to be a specialised doctor already. Hongbin is in awe, and maybe a little bit envious. He tries to shove the thought aside, as if afraid he’ll be able to read his mind.

 

There’s a knock against the door, and Dr. Cha asks the person behind it to come in.

 

“Oh, Taekwoon. Where’s Sanghyuk?”

 

Hongbin takes a peek at the tall figure, suddenly feeling smaller than he already did the moment he walked in through the glass doors of the clinic. The stranger, or this Taekwoon, has legs that go on for miles - Hongbin is tall, but this man takes it to another level with his proportions - and broad shoulders, not to mention a good-looking face.

 

“He asked me to take over during a case meeting earlier. You know, he’s specialised in adolescents and naturally he isn’t confident about handling an adult case. So, a senior psychologist to the rescue,” He says casually, eyes boring into Hongbin’s. The writer only turns away, not realising that he has been staring. He somehow feels more nervous now that this man is his psychologist, the tip of his ears turning red.

 

“Right, I forgot. He should have at least reminded me though. Sorry for making you go through all that trouble, and so sorry about that, Mr. Lee. This is Dr. Jung, our senior psychologist, as he has mentioned.”

 

“Hello,” He smiles politely, offering a handshake. He has a clipboard in his left hand, the clip barely managing to hold down the thick stack of papers. Hongbin might have just shook a little when he stretches out his hand to meet Dr. Jung’s.

 

“I have a questionnaire that you need to fill up, followed by a few questions that I will ask you. Dr. Cha and I make the diagnosis together, if any. If so, he will be the one prescribing the medications, as he deems fit. I’m the one doing the psychotherapy, so I’ll be taking notes,” He explains curtly as he waves the grey board around and proceeds to take out the questionnaire and a pen that’s fastened to the side. A stack of blank paper remains. “We good so far?”

 

Gulping, Hongbin nods.

 

-

 

He’s staring into blank space again, instead of doing his work. He mulls over the session he had earlier, and writes it down in hopes that it may prove useful for his writings. It’s 3:47AM, and sleep isn’t coming. He can feel the deep aching in his bones and the heaviness of his head— all an indicator of the fatigue that’s crawling up his neck, but his body is somehow resisting sleep. He thinks about Dr. Jung: jet-black hair, intense gaze, long legs and large shoulders. His whole being screams _attractive_ and Hongbin wants to do nothing but to just dig a hole in his wooden desk with his head.

 

There’s 5 bottles of pills on the kitchen counter. Alprazolam, Carbamazepine, Clonazepam, Escitalopram, and Promethazine, all of which Dr. Cha has prescribed. He has to see check in frequently with the psychiatrist for the next 3 weeks to check in on side effects and if it’s working. “I don’t want to hear about your funeral from Jaehwan,” He said, not all jokingly. There’s a black box warning for Carbamazepin and Escitalopram, indicating the risks of increased suicidal thoughts. Somehow shuddering at the fact, he shakes off the earlier warning from Dr. Cha from his mind and daydreams about a certain psychologist.

 

This late night affair is nothing new to Hongbin, overthinking things and replaying his entire life in his head, but _this_ — this is different in many ways, he’s somewhat excited that he’s found a new muse.

 

-

 

_Hongbin is falling, falling, and falling._

 

 _There’s a fog in front of him, and it’s hazy. He finds himself in a foreign place, and it’s wet. Half of his body is submerged in water, and it doesn’t feel natural, it’s not right, he can’t be_ _—_

 

-

 

An incoming call wakes him up.

 

Taking sedatives aren’t like how you see it in the media— it leaves you feeling groggy and your head is heavy, not being able to comprehend anything. It’s almost painful, but the sleep that comes definitely is rewarding, Hongbin cracks the sleep out of his joints before picking up the phone. His back is hurting from the uncomfortable position of sleeping on his office chair, and he can only think about how he wants to move to his bed as he listens to Jaehwan screeching, barely comprehending anything he’s saying, or asking.

 

“What?” He yawns loudly into the phone, voice laced with sleep.

 

“How did— Are you still sleeping?” Hongbin can hear Jaehwan’s gasp, and rolls his eyes.

 

The clock reads 12:15PM, indicating he has been well-rested for the past 8 hours. His mouth is dry, and his memory blurry. He was in such a state of heavy drowsiness that he doesn’t even remember what he was thinking of the last few moments before he fell asleep, until he looks at the glowing screen of his laptop. Rubbing at his temple as he recalls the events of last night, he gapes, not believing the sight in front of him. The document which has his current project is gone, and Hongbin groans, remembering that he deleting it. There is a new one though, and the character is all too familiar for his liking. He somehow rathers this be a continuation of his dream.

 

“Hello?” Jaehwan is shouting into the phone, and Hongbin jumps, forgetting about being on the line.

 

“I need to meet you and Wonshik. Now.”

 

-

 

Wonshik is furious when he finds out that Hongbin erased all of his progress, and he’s shouting madly in the office, “Even if you’re intending to work on your first novel, you can’t just do all that without telling me!” Jaehwan smirks in a corner, giving Hongbin a thumbs up while reading his new outlines. Encouraged by the approval, the writer bows sheepishly, promising him that he’ll compensate by ensuring his raging boss that he’s working on something different, such that it will bring in sales. He just needs extra time, is all.

 

“You’re lucky we’re an independent publishing house, and that I’m your friend,” The publisher grunts, defeated. “I’ve heard from Jaehwan already. I just didn’t expect for him to give you some kind of inspiration prep talk that actually _works_.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“How was your first session?” Wonshik asks, ignoring the protests from the editor.

 

 _Jet-black hair, intense gaze, long legs and large shoulders_ _—_ Hongbin thinks about it again. His heart is about to burst out of his ribcage, the image of him dizzying. He swallows, and smiles tightly at Wonshik. “Just an evaluation. It went well though. I have another appointment later on at five in the evening, for the actual therapy work.”

 

“I knew I can trust Hakyeon,” Jaehwan fist pumps the air, and Wonshik grins at the update, “We’re proud of you.”

 

The moment of happiness doesn’t last very long though, when Hongbin remembers to ask why doesn’t he know about Hakyeon. Wonshik coughs awkwardly, seeming to know the situation. He stands up to leave the room, “I’ll leave the two of you to talk it out.” Hongbin doesn’t miss the ‘I told you so’ expression he gives Jaehwan before leaving, and he crosses his arms, looking at Jaehwan expectedly.

 

“He’s an old flame,” Jaehwan is murmuring, this is a past he’d honestly rather not talk about, but Hongbin only gives him a look for him to continue his explanation.

 

“It happened three years ago. I couldn’t tell you because you—”

 

This triggers something in Hongbin, and the sound of sirens are going off in his head. There’s water everywhere, no air in his lungs. The stickiness of the wet fabric against his skin, the screaming in the background, the deafening silence in the dark waters, the pain in the back of his head and temples— it feels too real, too much like his nightmares. He’s staring into a distance as Jaehwan rambles, his dissociation becoming obvious as his eyes tear up. What finally grabs the elder’s attention is when he’s holding his head in his hands, unable to take the incessant ringing in his ears. Hongbin screams, pained. It’s a flashback, he finally recognises, and so does Jaehwan, because he’s begging for his pal to look at him.

 

“Fuck. Shit, Hongbin! Look at me, please,” He gently grabs his wrists, trying to pull it away from his ears, needing him to come back to what’s _real_. Wonshik runs into the room, commotion too loud to ignore. “Are there any sedatives on him?” He questions Jaehwan, trying to knock rationality into him. There really is no point in touching Hongbin and pleading with him to calm down. Flustered by the sudden suggestion, he lets go. Wonshik tries to look for Hongbin’s bag, but he’s already grabbed it and is running out of the office building.

 

Jaehwan is about to go after him, but Wonshik puts a hand to his chest, stopping him.

 

“Are you crazy? What if something happens to him?” A bewildered Jaehwan yells, pushing Wonshik’s hand out of the way.

 

“You can go, but note that he doesn’t even want to be near you now.”

 

Jaehwan stops at the weight of his words, and he sobs, “I shouldn’t— I shouldn’t have—” He slides down against the wall, legs turning into jelly. He’s burning with hatred for himself, for hurting Hongbin again, and he’s ashamed.

 

Wonshik sighs. Putting a hand comfortingly on Jaehwan’s shoulder, he only tells him, “This is Hongbin’s battle to fight, after all.”

 

-

 

He’s a flustered mess when he arrives at the clinic, the kind nurse from yesterday gasping at the state he’s in. With him shaking from head to toe, his face blotchy and red, puffy eyes, she calls for Dr. Jung immediately, notifying him that his patient is here, and clearly disturbed. Hongbin feels like hiding in a hole, maybe he should have just cancelled, maybe—

 

“Hongbin?” A gentle voice calls out; it’s soft, and Hongbin knows he’s far too gone to turn back. It belongs to Dr. Jung, and he only bawls louder, sense of relief hitting him. The psychologist no longer has his usual stoic expression, and it may as well be Hongbin’s first time witnessing this warmer side of him.

 

“Oh, Hongbin…” He whispers, rubbing his arm. He thanks the nurse before pulling him tenderly towards his consultation room, and sits him on a couch, getting him to lie down. A blanket is being placed over Hongbin’s body and he feels a strong hand on his side, soothing voice hushing him gently, “It’s okay.” There are sticky trails on his cheeks and temples left behind by teardrops, he can barely breathe, his nose is blocked and there’s this wetness sliding into his hair; Hongbin isn’t okay, and it feels horrible to be crying like this. The fragile boy feels more tears leaking out of his eyes in a futile attempt to stop crying, but he hears Dr. Jung telling him that he should cry it all out, and he wails, like a newborn.

 

As time passes, the waterworks stop gradually. He feels terribly thirsty, and his head about to burst from all the tears he have poured out. It’s mostly silent, the only sounds coming from the air-conditioner and Hongbin, who is sniffling as he blows his nose hard. He tries to breathe, and it’s uncomfortable. Dr. Jung hasn’t stopped rubbing his arm and seeing that he has calmed down, he asks him to take in the warmth that he feels from the blanket, to take comfort from the contact on his bicep as they do deep breaths together. Finally, when Hongbin sounds more coherent and isn’t a hiccuping mess, they talk.

 

“I’m sorry, Dr. Jung. I must have scared you.”

 

“No, not at all. Call me Taekwoon, please.”

 

Hongbin only looks at him hesitantly, and Taekwoon nods earnestly, assuring smile on his face. He makes a grab for the alarm clock on the glass coffee table, setting it to ring in an hour. Crossing his legs and clicking his pen, he asks Hongbin if he’s ready to share, and gets a meek nod in reply.

 

“What happened?”

 

He tells him about Jaehwan, the flashback, and the nightmares— the events that have happened since his consultation yesterday up till this very moment, minus the fact that he started on a new piece. There’s the sound of pen scratching against the paper, as the psychologist writes intensely to match the speed that Hongbin’s speaking at. He makes some other notes that aren’t very legible, while circling some topics that he has brought up.

 

“Who is this Lee Jaehwan? You two seem very close.”

 

Hongbin draws in a breath so sharp that it physically hurt his chest, and then came his reply, “My ex-boyfriend.” He thinks he’s imagining it, but Dr. Jung— Taekwoon dots a period with a bit more force than necessary upon his reply. The psychologist looks a bit stunned, as observed in the way his pen nearly falls out of his grip when he stops scribbling. He regains his composure in less than a second though, stoic expression on again. “Was the relationship among those that you have described as ‘intense’ yesterday?”

 

Another nod. The wall behind Taekwoon suddenly looks interesting, as Hongbin painfully tries to avoid the heavy look he’s giving him. There’s somersaults in his stomach, and he peels at his fingernails, not knowing where to place his hands. A stress ball is placed in front of him as Taekwoon reprimands him softly, “Don’t do that.”

 

He thanks a higher being that his face is already red from his breakdown, because he feels a blush fanning across his cheeks upon his bad habit being caught red-handed. He winces internally when reminded of the familiar lump in the back pocket of his jeans, his nearly empty pack of cigarettes pressing against him uncomfortably.

 

“You had a breakdown during the conversation, and so we need to talk about what was mentioned when you approached him about Hakyeon— what exactly has caused you so much distress?” Taekwoon asks, showing Hongbin a drawing of two circles on his notes, one representing the words ‘old flame’ and the other, ‘three years ago’.

 

“Which of the two is making you the most uncomfortable now?”

 

Picking up the stress ball, Hongbin squeezes with all of his might, suddenly not knowing what they’re talking about. His head feels heavy, but somewhat light; he just doesn’t want to think at all. Taekwoon observes his silence for awhile, before prompting him with another question. “What are you feeling in your body as we talk about this?”

 

Without hesitation, Hongbin replies, “The back of my eyes feels heavy, but my head itself is light. I don’t like it.”

 

He’s thinking about water again, how it feels when you’re diving straight into it. Just like his nightmares, the exact same spots begin to feel weird again, and he hates it. Taekwoon only nods, and scribbles onto his notes, using up three pieces of paper already, front and back. Hongbin thinks he may be a bit (or very) fucked up, a complete lost cause.

 

“Must be hard for you. I understand.”

 

Silence creeps its way into their conversation again, with Hongbin not knowing how to reply to Taekwoon’s empathetic statement. He appreciates it, not ready to open up. As tears start to well up in his eyes again, he almost passes out from relief when the psychologist changes the topic. “What would you describe your relationship with Jaehwan as?”

 

“Queerplatonic I guess? We’re just friends now. I broke it off four years ago. I felt like I was only pulling him down because of my disposition. He— he deserves to love someone else better than me. He really is the sweetest, you know? I pushed him away because I thought he was going to end up pushing me away. With that slump I was in four years ago, I thought—” Hongbin starts to choke up, dropping his volume to a small whisper, too shameful to express his thoughts.

 

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it if he were the one abandoning me.”

 

He thinks about the third time he got rejected from medical school, all of his interviews failing to make the shortlist. How much he cried in Jaehwan’s arms, how Jaehwan had to rush home from university everyday to make sure he isn’t in the midst of a breakdown, and how Jaehwan had to deal with his insecurities. He remembers sad eyes, broken expression and a tired Jaehwan pleading with him to not do this, that it’s because it’s a trying time that all the more they need each other. Hongbin is pained by this, but doesn’t regret it, not after what happened three years back. Leaving Jaehwan was necessary in order to free him.

 

There’s a ring from the clock, and his session is over. Hongbin is a little shocked, thinking that only twenty minutes has passed since Taekwoon set the alarm. The psychologist clicks his pen after making some final remarks, and places his clipboard on the table, arranging his written notes. Grabbing a file with ‘LEE HONGBIN’ written on it, he slots it in and passes him a charge slip.

 

Hongbin sighs, shifting from the couch uncomfortably as he stands, remembering that all of what happened is just part of Taekwoon’s job. He doesn’t know what to make out from this situation now that he’s reminded, and wishes he didn’t need to be here in the first place, that he didn’t have to meet Dr. Jung at all. He bows politely in thanks, thoughts consuming him when a hand is suddenly extended towards him. Hongbin is startled, not sure whether he should take it or not, if he has mistaken the gesture.

 

He ends up taking it, albeit clumsily, forced smile on his face, “Thank you, Dr Jung.”

 

The psychologist looks at him weird as he grabs his bag to leave the room, and Hongbin knows why. It makes him painfully uncomfortable, and so he looks back when he hears a cough.

 

“I’ll see you next week.”

 

Taekwoon raises his brows, as if expecting more.

 

“And… Thanks, Taekwoon.”

 

He grins as if he just heard the happiest news of his life, and Hongbin is out of the door, not knowing what does it mean. Dr. Jung is all seriousness and professionalism, but not... Taekwoon. He shudders, and passes the charge slip to the guy at the counter as he takes out his wallet.

 

-

 

_Hongbin is falling, falling, and falling._

 

 _There’s a fog in front of him, and it’s hazy. He finds himself in a foreign place, and it’s wet. Half of his body is submerged in water, and it doesn’t feel natural, it’s not right, he can’t be_ _conscious. There’s sirens going off, but there’s only water around him. His head is throbbing, and there’s a sharp pain in his back. His stomach feels like it has exploded, and then he hears Jaehwan and unknown voices screaming his name._

 

-

 

“Hongbin!”

 

He jerks awake, and gulps at the air like a fish out of water. His face is slick with sweat, and a concerned Jaehwan is shaking his shoulders. He pulls away upon seeing that Hongbin is awake, as if burned.

 

“I was worried and so I let myself in.. I woke you because you looked like you were in pain,” Jaehwan explains softly, afraid that Hongbin might chase him out anytime soon. Seeing that he doesn’t have an angry expression on, Jaehwan teeters on the boundary he should be setting and asks, “Was it the same nightmare again?”

 

Hongbin nods and leans on the cusp of Jaehwan’s shoulder. He’s breathing hard, scared. Arms are immediately wrapped around him, and Hongbin takes comfort, he takes it in like he needs oxygen. He clings on, like how much he clung onto Jaehwan pathetically three years ago.

 

(Hongbin can’t help but notice the difference between Jaehwan and Taekwoon, though. He thinks about how he cried in front of Taekwoon, that he wants Taekwoon’s soft voice to be the one soothing him, warmth of his touch against his skin. He feels bad, and only hugs Jaehwan harder, silent apology in his action.)

 

They stay like this for a long time, and Hongbin wonders how Jaehwan’s arms never get tired (of him). There’s a damp spot on his shirt, stained with tears, sweat and mucus. He doesn’t know what did he do to deserve someone like Jaehwan in his life.

 

Jaehwan notices that he has stopped crying, and lets go of his frame in an exchange to hold his face. He thumbs at Hongbin cheeks, and then pinches his nose, chuckling softly. “You’ve stopped crying.” Hongbin only smiles shyly, dimples making an appearance and Jaehwan doesn’t miss the opportunity to stick a finger to either sides of his cheek.

 

“You look cuter like this.”

 

Hongbin takes Jaehwan’s hands into his, and his expression shifts, he’s still smiling, but it looks too sad. “Tell me about Hakyeon.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore—”

 

“I know. I just wish to know about the person who had the honour of dating you. Whether he made you happy. Whether he could give you what I couldn’t.”

 

Jaehwan plays with Hongbin’s small fingers, and wishes to tell him that his last sentence is not true at all, because Hongbin gave him everything he could have asked for - the entire universe, even - but he didn’t reciprocate, didn’t try hard enough. He looks into curious eyes, and he caves in to the genuine expression on Hongbin’s face.

 

“I met him when I was still studying. Three years ago. He was the TA for my psychology minor, he got involved when he went through his research year during his residency. We just really… got along well. When I started missing class—” Jaehwan pauses, knowing that he’s about to enter a sensitive topic and is reluctant. Hongbin just looks at him, nodding for him to go on. “He asked me what was wrong and I spilled - I am so sorry - and he comforted me, told me many things from a doctor’s perspective and assured me as best as he could. It was really hard and I felt so lonely and helpless, but Hakyeon was there and I think that made me looked at him as a companion.”

 

“Did you hide about him from me because he’s a doctor and it’s a crushed dream of mine?” _That I’ll feel inadequate and jealous?_

 

“No, god no. I couldn’t bear to tell you when you already had enough on your plate. I just couldn’t tell you I’m happy when you were so broken. I wanted to be in pain together with you. Seeing you like that, it made me feel bad for dating Hakyeon,” Jaehwan explains, rubbing Hongbin’s hand in his.

 

“I’m so sorry Jaehwan, I’m so sorry,” Hongbin whispers, bringing their hands to his forehead as he cries. “I wish you didn’t meet a wreck like me, I wish—”

 

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jaehwan hushes, and he holds Hongbin tightly against his chest, patting the crying boy’s back. “Meeting you is the best thing that has happened to me.”

 

“I can’t make it up to you ever, not with the amount of pain I gave you.”

 

“Find someone that makes you happy, and that will be the best gift ever,” Jaehwan nearly cracks saying this, but he controls himself. Pressing a kiss to Hongbin’s temple, he tries not to cry.

 

“I mean it, Lee Hongbin.”

 

-

 

Wonshik is greeted with the sight of Hongbin lying on Jaehwan’s lap, the two of them watching an old film from the 80’s, something about the literature revival in England.

 

“We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for,” Wonshik narrates along with actor on screen, approving of the movie. Jaehwan nods, agreeing, and Hongbin looks as if he had an epiphany. He immediately gets up from Jaehwan’s lap, running towards his laptop.

 

“Are you two dating again?” Wonshik squints his eyes, intensely questioning Jaehwan. The latter shakes his head, and the former doesn’t miss the sadness that flashes across his face for a second, deciding not to probe any further and sighs, “Anyway, it looks like you two made up already, I’m glad that I didn’t walk in to walk out again because I brought chicken for us.”

 

Jaehwan hums happily, calling out for Hongbin to dig in. “His outlines look really promising so far, I think he found some kind of inspiration in himself,” The editor comments, remembering where they left off yesterday. Wonshik looks at him, surprised expression on his face. “Is he perhaps… Opening up?”

 

“I don’t know. There’s this abstract character, and there’s this ideal of what they are when nothing is known much about them so far. It’s as if he projected his desires for what he wishes this character to be, but yet afraid that they may fail him— Hongbin managed to express all of that, his descriptions are vivid yet teasing. Also, for the first time, there’s life in his words,” Jaehwan remarks, trying to recall whatever he read. Hesitatingly, he adds on, “There really is an idealisation on the character though, but I’m not sure. It’s too early to tell.”

 

“That’s really like Hongbin isn’t it?” — A rhetorical question, and they fall into silence.

 

Wonshik seems to think further before finally deciding to ask, “Do you think he met someone?”

 

“I just don’t want him to determine his own worth and expectations based on them,” Jaehwan grunts, thinking of how he views himself from extreme ends. “I don’t want him blaming himself again.”

 

Wonshik nods in agreement, understanding what Jaehwan means. They try not to think of the past, but it is an issue that’s inevitable, something that is bound to come up sooner or later. He picks up a full ashtray, frowning at the quantity of cigarette butts. He’s equally as worried as Jaehwan about Hongbin’s habits. “I hope he finds recovery this time round. He has to.”

 

-

 

For the first time in months, the study room is spotless, his desk organised and the floor clean. Now that he’s abandoned his previous project, all the drafts he have written were thrown out. The only thing that occupies his work place is a thick stack of paper with some notes scrawled on it, a glass of water and his trusty ashtray.

 

The physical appearance of his character has already been described, and indeed modelled after Taekwoon: jet-black hair, intense gaze, long legs and large shoulders. It’s the one impression that looms over Hongbin’s head ever since he met the psychologist, but this time he also knows of a gentle voice, his warm touches, kind words and soft smiles. He appears curt and strictly professional, but his empathy cannot be hidden beneath that cold exterior. The writer looks up for the notes he made right after his first therapy session, how it felt to be vulnerable, to be empathised with and to be validated— he was comforted in a way that no one else has ever done before. Then he thinks of Jaehwan, how his touch feels different from Taekwoon: how the latter makes his heart flutter, that it felt so raw and intimate.

 

He once felt that way with Jaehwan too, up till four years ago.

 

He remembers strong hands on his bicep when he was being held, and long arm over his shoulder when he was brought into the consultation room. Jotting all these down, he also notes Taekwoon’s hands earlier on, and proceeds to make a rough sketch of the details. It’s large, and oddly smooth for how much strength it holds, as if he plays piano. Hongbin shivers at the thought, swallowing hard as he thinks about Taekwoon playing the piano. He thought it wasn’t possible that there would be more turn-ons to Jung Taekwoon.

 

With Wonshik approving his outlines that day he came over, he eagerly types, creating a story that he’s excited to share with the world.

 

(But for him to express, it means for him to dive again.)

 

-

 

Hongbin has an appointment to see Dr. Cha, and his stomach churns at the thought of seeing Taekwoon. He doesn’t know if he’d be glad to see the psychologist, because when he thinks about the day he came in crying, he cringes and has an urge to walk out before Taekwoon sees him.

 

Fortunately for Hongbin, Taekwoon is in midst of a session, and won’t see him at least for now. The nurse calls for him to enter, and he does so while taking one final glance at consultation room five: Taekwoon’s room.

 

He’s curious on how Taekwoon felt when he came in so broken; what were his thoughts, his impression— whether he was judging him. It kills him trying to figure out how the man really feels, job aside and he internally kicks himself for the mess he’s gotten himself into. He doesn’t know if he should bring it up to Hakyeon because it could be considered a breach of professional boundaries, but he also doesn’t want formalities between him and Taekwoon— admit it or not, he loves the fact that they’re on first name basis with each other.

 

Walking into the bare room, he’s greeted by Dr Cha, friendly smile on his face. He spots a familiar case file in his hand, and when he walks closer towards the chair in front of the psychiatrist’s desk, the label ‘LEE HONGBIN’ confirms his question.

 

“Nice to see you, Mr Lee. I was just reading about your session with Taekwoon three days ago, seemed like it was a rough day?” He asks, filing away the psychologist’s notes neatly. Hongbin can only shyly nod, tight smile on his face, as if burning with humiliation. He wonders if Taekwoon wrote down Dr. Cha’s name when they were discussing the argument, and he feels nauseous. This is painfully awkward, and Hongbin doesn’t know if Dr. Cha is unaware that he was name-dropped or if he’s just pretending, because he’s damn good at it.

 

“Well, at least I’m glad that the medications aren’t causing any sudden highs. Is there any decrease in mood though? Do you have any thoughts of harming yourself? Any new symptoms?” Dr. Cha asks, facing his desktop, ready to key in notes. Hongbin only shakes his head in reply to the questions except for the last one, in which he explains his frequent vivid nightmare, and the psychiatrist thinks for awhile before keying in more comments on his desktop. “How was your first session with Taekwoon?”

 

Hongbin blushes like a teenage schoolboy, and curses himself for being so obvious. “He’s great. Doesn’t try to force things out of me. Knows what to say.” _And fucking attractive._

 

Dr. Cha purses his lips at this, before proceeding to type away. “I’m surprised that he didn’t scare you away with his cold exterior, which was why I asked for Dr. Han initially, but looks like you’re comfortable with him, no?” He asks, pushing up his glasses as he looks at Hongbin.

 

“Yes, I am. I don’t have difficulty talking to him.”

 

“Even if it’s about your break up?”

 

“No.”

 

“What about three years ago?”

 

To this, Hongbin freezes, feeling slightly betrayed. He suddenly feels detached from his surroundings, Dr. Cha’s voice floating further away. He doesn’t know if this is really— or if he’s real, and he’s suddenly afraid. The lights are suddenly turned off, and a nurse is placing a cup of hot chocolate in between his hands. There’s a soft voice, and it’s coming from Dr. Cha.

 

“Mr. Lee— Hongbin, I am your doctor. You’re in my consultation room, and you’re safe. Feel the warmth that the cup is emitting, you’re as real as it,” Dr. Cha guides him, looking into unfocused eyes. Hongbin grips the cup a bit tighter in his hand, wrapping his hands around it as if he’s freezing and the cup is the only source of warmth in the room. The psychiatrist notices this, and continues speaking, “You may have regrets, but it’s okay; we all do. These episodes are caused by post-traumatic stress, you’re sick, and you’ll be healed. We’re here to do good, and we want to work through this. Slowly. You’re not the same person you were three years ago.”

 

He turns to stare at Dr. Cha, and then looks around the room. There’s an office chair, a wooden desk, the chair he’s sitting on and a similar black name plaque, except with a different name and academic title.

 

_CHA HAKYEON, MD_

 

There’s a sinking feeling that it wasn’t Taekwoon who is trying to speak sense into him, but he looks at Dr. Cha, who’s squatting beside him and Hongbin gives him an assuring nod. The doctor sighs in relief, and walks back to his seat. Hongbin gulps down his hot chocolate, taking in the sweetness that dances on his tongue and the warmth that goes down his oesophagus. He notices the differences between Dr. Cha and Dr. Jung’s rooms, with the latter’s being more cozy and more occupied spaces. It doesn’t feel as warm here, unlike the safe space he finds in Taekwoon’s room. It’s always _Taekwoon, Taekwoon, Taekwoon_ — maybe it’s because he’s just more comfortable with Taekwoon.

 

“It seems that the incident three years ago is giving you intense post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms, and we have to fix this problem first. Do you want to see a trauma specialist psychologist instead—”

 

“No,” Hongbin says a little too firmly, which takes both of them back in surprise. Dr. Cha raises a brow at this, but doesn’t comment— though he’s typing away intensely at his keyboard.

 

“It’s nice to know that the medications don’t have any negative side effects yet so far, so let’s just continue hoping it’ll stay this way and that we’ll see results after three weeks. I’ll keep your current doses for now,” Dr. Cha remarks, folding his arms on the desk as he turns away from the screen to look at Hongbin. “We can’t ignore your PTSD symptoms though, so I will have to discuss with Taekwoon on how we can help, since you’ve already adjusted with him.”

 

He rubs his hand together, and claps, as if concluding the session. He stands up, and offers Hongbin a handshake, grin on his face. Somehow, it feels all too fake, like it’s a pretense— who the hell would be _this_ comfortable treating your ex’s ex-boyfriend? He stares at the outstretched hand, almost incredulous, but he takes it anyway. Hongbin returns a tight smile, and turns to leave the room.

 

“And Hongbin?”

 

“Huh?” Hongbin jumps a little, surprised by the sudden call of his name.

 

“I’m engaged,” And Hakyeon grins, delivering the good news.

 

To this, Hongbin narrows his eyes as he looks at Dr. Cha, confused as to what he’s trying to get to. “What does that have to do with—”

 

“I’m not in love at Jaehwan anymore. Not at all.”

 

“Oh.” Hongbin suddenly feels bad for being dubious, but Hakyeon only chuckles, as if understanding the unspoken misunderstanding. Hongbin feels like bolting out of the room, and so he mutters a ‘congratulations’ before quickly walking out of the room, back against the door the moment it’s shut behind him. He’s not sure what to think of the news, because he thought that maybe - just maybe - Hakyeon is still longing for Jaehwan. He doesn’t want to be the reason why they broke up— because if they are still in love, they have no reason to not be together.

 

It’s only when Taekwoon walks out of his room when Hongbin immediately discards the thought regarding Hakyeon and Jaehwan, and he doesn’t know where to look, hyperventilating against the door. He tries to stand cooly but he knows he’s being a complete fail at trying to act casual. He whips out his phone, a poor disguise to secretly steal glances at the psychologist.

 

Hongbin tries not to be disappointed as Taekwoon nonchalantly walks by, giving him only a small smile which feels all too formal. He feels kind of stupid— he’s well aware that this is only a job, a mere case and stacks of papers to Taekwoon. However, to Hongbin, Jung Taekwoon is a human being that he just so happened to be infatuated with, and it hurts so much with all these conflicted emotions taking over him. _I shouldn’t be feeling betrayed, I shouldn’t be feeling betrayed, I shouldn’t be feeling betrayed_ — Hongbin chants, a mantra that he hopes to remind him that boundaries are set for a reason.

 

Not wanting to think about Taekwoon anymore, he leaves the clinic with a sinking feeling in his stomach, an ever so subtle hint of heartbreak. Hongbin feels painfully stupid for harbouring these feelings, but he’s afraid to talk about it and it feels like someone is pressing their fingers into his throat.

 

However, later at night, when the moonlight spills into the room and there’s this silent tranquility, Hongbin sits up in his bed thinking of Taekwoon’s apathetic expression when he walked through the hallway again, and it stings. He feels like he can’t live with this boundary, where he is a mere patient in Taekwoon’s eyes. He’s upset, but he shouldn’t be asking for more, shouldn’t have agreed going to the clinic in the first place.

 

(But while he shouldn’t, he’s glad he went, because he met Taekwoon.)

 

Hongbin reaches out for his laptop that’s sitting on the bedside table, and starts to write, creating another abstract character— black hair, tall, broad shoulders, and the way the heels of their shoes would click whenever he walks, but this time his exterior is cold, aloof and without empathy. This is Dr. Jung - as he would like to believe - while Taekwoon is warmth, gentleness and compassionate. Whether he’s in love with both, he doesn’t know, but he enjoys the thrill of this insane idea.

 

-

 

(The day is almost over, and Hakyeon is done running his clinic. He is in deep thought, trying to make his notes neater by retyping his points into proper paragraphs. There are many things to work with for Hongbin’s case, and he feels a headache coming. He furrows his eyebrows, concerned about Hongbin’s idealisation of Taekwoon as he is for his PTSD symptoms. He only roughly knows about Hongbin’s past diagnosis, and he’s a bit clueless as to which to settle first. He thinks of Jaehwan, but shrugs off the idea to ask him about what happened three years ago; it just isn’t professional.

 

He sighs, deciding to ask Taekwoon to see if he’s able to handle the therapy work.)

-

 

Since there has been progress in his works, Wonshik and Jaehwan drops by Hongbin’s apartment, feeling the need to check on the writer to make sure he’s not tormenting himself,

 

The editor and publisher are now reading Hongbin’s new lines, and the writer peels his nails anxiously, eager to hear their response. There’s a smile on their faces, and it indicates good news.

 

“Jaehwan told me the other day about how this work is different, and it’s brilliant. I’m excited for more,” Wonshik remarks, satisfied with Hongbin’s newest work. “May I know who these two characters are based on?”

 

Jaehwan aggressively glares at Wonshik, obviously not liking the question, but the younger probes anyway.

 

“My psychologist,” Hongbin replies, casual.

 

The two of them immediately sputters in disbelief, and worry is cast on their faces. “Didn’t you just meet him like twice? You’re seriously writing a book about him? Already?” Jaehwan is nearly yelling, and Wonshik is biting at his lip. They recognise his splitting tendencies here, and they’re afraid Hongbin may fall again.

 

“Relax. I just took inspiration from him, this book isn’t _about_ him.”

 

“Still,” Wonshik protests, breaking out of his silence, “You took a random stranger’s character and turned it into some Jekyll & Hyde shit, there _is_ an issue here, Hongbin.”

 

“The worst part is—” Jaehwan starts, but he doesn’t finish. He’s rubbing his temples, not wanting to trigger Hongbin again, but it worries him gravely— _you’re going to be utterly disappointed again, like last time._

 

“What Jaehwan? And how is this Jekyll and Hyde here?”

 

“The two characters. They’re of the same person, aren’t they? You don’t even know how this Taekwoon is like, for Christ’s sake. Haven’t it occurred to you that you’re going into your black-and-white thinking again?” Wonshik points out, index finger raised at the damning laptop accusingly; he can’t even try to hide his frustration at this point of time, not when he was scared to death three years ago. Hongbin freezes at the realisation, and he gulps, trying to back paddle in hopes to appease their anger.

 

“He comforted me the other day— I got the idea from then,” Hongbin’s nearly crying, frantic at Jaehwan’s silence, not knowing his thoughts. He looks at Wonshik pleadingly too, not wanting both of them to be mad at him. “The hyde character you’re talking about, it was when I realised it’s part of his job only.”

 

They seem to relent a little, and Hongbin swears he nearly passes out from the intensity of the situation. He blindly finds for a chair to settle down on, figure slumped as he buries his head in his hands. He doesn’t know if he sounds obsessive now, and he admittedly is ashamed.

 

“I just really like him,” He whispers, broken. Hongbin feels like a child who got reprimanded for hanging out with bad kids, and he feels at a lost. He just really, really likes Taekwoon and rather not think of any future repercussions. Jaehwan thinks about their conversation earlier when he asked Hongbin to find someone who makes him happy, and he sighs audibly, wanting to keep to his promise. Wonshik looks at him, uncertain.

 

“I need you to promise me then, that’ll you at least tell Hakyeon about this. If he’s okay about you harbouring feelings for your psychotherapist, then we shall comment no further,” Jaehwan says, defeated. He really doesn’t have a good feeling about this, honestly; but the way Hongbin seems to really _feel_ — he tries to convince himself that maybe a psychologist would be a suitable partner, he may even help teach him how to manage his expectations, be if self or relationship-wise.

 

Hongbin seems to be a bit unhappy at this, facial expression akin to that of a deer caught in headlights, but Wonshik only glares for him to not challenge it, “At least allow us to be assured, if you’re so insistent about your feelings.”

 

The writer nods reluctantly.

 

-

 

Hakyeon asks Taekwoon and Sanghyuk out for drinks after work. He desperately needs to loosen up, and he’s not without agenda: he needs answers from the two psychologists. They’ve settled down into a private booth, and Hakyeon brings up business.

 

“About the author. I read his works before, mostly poetry that are quite shallow,” Taekwoon remarks, stirring at his cocktail. Hakyeon tilts his head slightly, making a connection with the statement.

 

“Is that why you took the case from Sanghyuk? Fan of his work?”

 

Taekwoon downs his drink, avoiding the question actively while Sanghyuk settles for chuckling nervously, “You know I only do adolescents. And we shouldn’t really be talking about work over drinks.”

 

“You’re not going to change the topic,” Hakyeon warns, before continuing, “And so does Taekwoon. In fact, he deals with _children_ , if you really want to play this card.”

 

“I’m a senior psychologist. I have experience with adults,” Taekwoon defends, putting his glass down with more force than necessary.

 

“There’s Heeyeon to take over. Sanghyuk, if you really couldn’t, you could have just told me and maybe I would have been able to work it out with her despite her fully booked clinic,” Hakyeon reprimands, and Sanghyuk hangs his head, biting his lips as he silently acknowledges his mistake.

 

“I didn’t say anything in front of Hongbin that day when you came in because I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself. So, be honest with me now, you two,” The psychiatrist is now staring at Taekwoon, demanding an explanation.

 

“I gave the case to him because I really felt clueless on how to help him and then—”

 

“I’m intrigued by this case. Thought that I might know of a way to help him, so I asked Sanghyuk to let me have it instead,” Taekwoon continues for Sanghyuk; if the both of them are in trouble, it’s his fault for not being accountable.

 

“His history indicates that he has borderline personality disorder, will you know what to do in the event of transference and countertransference? Do you think you’re capable of conducting dialectical behavioural therapy sessions? Kids can’t have borderline personality, you know that well too and so you’ve never dealt with this, in my clinic at least. Is this really an area you want to cover?” Hakyeon questions, practically interrogating the senior psychologist at this point.

 

Taekwoon only nods firmly in response.

 

“Even if now I suspect him to have post traumatic stress disorder?”

 

“I’ve figured in the first session already. Just not exactly what happened,” Taekwoon is starting to get annoyed; he did not study for eight years just to have his clinical decisions invalidated. He’s no medical doctor, but he has a total of eleven years of experience in the field of psychology under his belt. “Hakyeon, I’m fully capable and I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t have asked for the case if i’m clueless. At least trust me to be professional.”

 

“We also had the other three psychologists in the room when we discussed the case so we did sort it out in an appropriate manner. We just didn’t communicate it to you directly and we’re sorry,” Sanghyuk apologises, trying to alleviate the tension.

 

“Fine, then write me a report on how you intend to help the patient. I also intend to ask trauma psychology— Wonkeun and his team for their opinion. I’m having a headache on what to deal first, his case is complex,” Hakyeon finally acquiesces, and Sanghyuk sighs in relief.

 

Taekwoon has a soft smile on his face over the victory, and he agrees to Hakyeon’s condition, but the latter can’t help but have an ominous feeling about the whole thing, and so he gives another word of advice.

 

_“Please, guard your heart too.”_

 

-

 

Hongbin has been wide awake the entire night, despite the drowsiness he feels. It’s afternoon now, but he’s tossing and turning in bed, a futile attempt to sleep. He finds every position uncomfortable, and settles for burying his face in the sheets. His mind wanders to a Jung Taekwoon, and he groans in frustration, throwing a pillow over the crown of his head. Not knowing whether to turn up for therapy later in the evening, he kicks his blanket in a fit. Embarrassment is an understatement; it’s part of the job for Taekwoon, and he still can’t help but think that he may be thought of as weird or that he’s—

 

_Delusional._

 

The words eat at him harsher than necessary, the feeling of humiliation burning across his face. He thinks about Jaehwan and Wonshik’s words the other day, and all the more it makes him feel burdened about turning up. Not comprehending the whirlwind of emotions that’s brewing in his mind and the weight upon his heart, he thinks he should really talk to Dr. Cha as soon as he can. There’s a slight wariness though, because the possibility of not getting to know Taekwoon more breaks his heart and he doesn’t know what will really be the best for him; it’s a battle between his brain and heart.

 

It’s the same conflict over and over.

 

He thinks of the softness of Taekwoon’s eyes that day when he turned up vulnerable, but he also thinks of the coldness that hides itself beneath the very same compassionate gaze and Hongbin hates it, that it’s always the two extremes for him: rational or irrational, good or bad, competent or inadequate, do or die, love or hate. His compulsiveness relieves him but it’s only pushing him towards self-destruction.  

 

Hongbin really needs to think it through, and so he painfully waits for 5:00PM to be over— the hour hand hits five: his appointment is now cancelled. He receives a phone call from the clinic, but he throws his phone aside and does whatever he can to not think of a certain psychologist. He’s admittedly afraid of falling again, thinking of all the similar signs and patterns he once had three years ago.

 

Needing a form of release, he changes into black jeans and a white t-shirt, throwing a leather jacket on. He’s headed for the club, intending to get himself fucked senseless, so that he doesn’t think of jet-black hair, an intense gaze, long legs and large shoulders. Doing his makeup and drawing on an intense kohl, he’s ready to forget tonight.

 

(What Hongbin is unaware of though, is that he has already fallen. He doesn’t realise this, and he never does until he feels the ground.)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Some They Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger/content warning: mentions of suicide, panic attacks, sexy stuff in the beginning

The noise of the club is blaring, and Hongbin cringes at the heavy sounds, the DJ going with the boring, poor choices as usual. With every beat, he feels his head pounding. This annoys him tremendously, and so he slips away from the dance floor and plops into a seat at the drinks counter tucked away at an isolated corner. The noise isn’t completely removed, but it’s considerably quieter over here.

 

Hongbin needs to clear his thoughts, and so he orders a shot of rum. It’s bitter, and burns as it travels down his oesophagus. He thinks about Taekwoon again: jet-black hair, intense gaze, long legs and large shoulders. Though this time, he draws another image— his kind expression, assuring smile, the warmth of his hand against his biceps and his soft voice.

 

Jung Taekwoon is ethereal.

 

He shakes his head at the thought, and takes another shot. He’s looking around, trying to find a target he can set his sights on. The club is hazy, thick with smoke and artificial fog. It’s probably to give off some hipster vibe, with neon-lit signs all over. It only serves as an eyesore, to be honest. It’s mostly bright red, with the occasional pop of blue and green. He’s stained with red, and so is the club. It’d be a miracle if he can make out a handsome face here; the contrast from the lights against the dark environment obscuring one’s face, the intense red casting heavy shadows. Contemplating whether to move to a simple pub down the road, he gives it a final chance. Lighting a cigarette, he waits around, eyes wandering in search of a prey. He notices a stranger sitting down beside him and thought ‘finally’, but his breath hitches as he makes out the facial features of the unknown figure: mole underneath his eyes, hooded eyes, full cheeks and sharp nose— it’s Jung Taekwoon.

 

“I didn’t see you today,” Dr. Jung says, boring into his eyes again. Like the very first time they met, Hongbin feels that something is caught in his throat. It’s different this time: red hair, lazy posture, and bedroom eyes— a complete contrast to how he looks like while at work. He orders a whiskey, on the rocks. The ice clinks against his glass as he sips at his drink, staring at Hongbin almost seductively. The writer doesn’t know whether he’s expecting an explanation: Taekwoon can’t possibly be here to try and get into his pants.

 

He’s balking, not quite believing that the psychologist is beside him. He doesn’t really know how to react— his hands suddenly feel awkward and his legs are frozen stiff, fight-or-flight instincts paralysed. It’s almost dream-like, because there’s no way he would be here flirting with him.

 

“You come here?” Hongbin all but stutters, feeling stupid in that instant. He doesn’t remember seeing him all the time he’s frequented the place, but then again, the lighting is shit here. Taekwoon only nods in reply, drumming the table with his fingers as if thinking of what to say. His tongue swipes across his lips as he once again brings his eyes up to look at Hongbin, except that he’s staring at his lips.

 

Hongbin withdraws slightly, doubtful about the entire situation. He thinks he’s going crazy, or maybe it’s just a lookalike in front of him— _the lighting is shit, the lighting is shit, the lighting is shit._

 

But the man only moves closer, face only a mere inch away from Hongbin’s. “You’re really beautiful,” He says, cocking his head slightly, gaze unwavering. His hand reaches out, only to take out the stick he has in between his teeth, and Hongbin nearly chokes when the figure puts it in between his own pretty lips instead (he isn’t staring, he swears he isn’t). Hongbin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling way too tight for him. He doesn’t know how someone can ooze this much sex appeal, and he is only smoking; he doesn’t want to imagine what it’ll be like in bed with him. The club suddenly seems distant, and his only focus is on the fantasy that’s unravelling in front of him. Hongbin needs something to feel that this is all real, and so he gestures for another shot.

 

He immediately downs it the moment it has been set on the coaster, his hand shaky. He curses underneath his breath at the observation— he needs more.

 

“You shouldn’t be drinking. You’re on medication,” he’s chiding Hongbin, pushing the shot glass aside when the bartender replaces it. Hongbin is sure now that it’s his psychologist— but somehow he feels all the more confused. He refuses to show it though, wanting to figure out what game is Taekwoon trying to play, and he tries to put on a confident smile. Hongbin has to take control, to not be charmed, for he doesn’t want his own desires exposed.

 

“Are you here as Dr. Jung to scold his patient for skipping, or Jung Taekwoon?”

 

(It’s too late anyway, Hongbin is falling— he always is.)

 

Taekwoon only smirks, and then stands. He’s wearing a dress shirt as usual, but this time it’s paired with a double breasted waistcoat - fitted, or probably bespoke - and it’s almost sinful with the way it clings onto Taekwoon’s torso, highlighting his slim, triangular figure. Hongbin groans inwardly, the view too much for him. He definitely isn’t prepared for what is to come: Taekwoon leaning towards his ear and whispering huskily, “I’m here as Jung Taekwoon.”

 

He leans back to see Hongbin’s expression, and there’s a satisfied smile on his face when he sees that he’s gaping. “I’m hoping you want this?” Taekwoon asks, inching closer and closer towards Hongbin’s face, lips barely touching.

 

“Fuck, yes,” Hongbin curses, his heart about to burst out of his ribcage. His wet dreams are becoming real, and he’s not going to let this pass.

 

Plump lips are immediately on his, and Hongbin kisses back with every fibre of his being, dreaming of this moment for ages. It gets warmer and warmer as they go on, and Hongbin swears he nearly loses it when Taekwoon slots his tongue into the cavern of his mouth. He’s a ridiculously good kisser, and if it weren’t for the chair that Hongbin is sitting on, his legs would have failed him and he’d be falling to the ground. Taekwoon holds him closer, winding an arm around the small of his back and pulling him in. There’s a large hand on his face— Taekwoon’s. The atmosphere thickens, anticipation coiling in their stomachs as their tongues dance, and they almost forget that they’re making out in front of a disgruntled bartender.

 

Hongbin shifts a bit, trying to grab his wallet. He pulls back to take out a hundred thousand won bill, fingers frantic in their movement. He then slams it on the counter, standing up to capture Taekwoon’s lips with his again. The taller man takes the lead, stumbling as they make their way through the club blindly. Hongbin is pulled in, cluelessly following Taekwoon— they end up in the toilet, and he’s being shoved against the door of a cubicle. Hongbin’s hair is dishevelled by now, with Taekwoon clutching onto tufts of it with his pretty fingers.

 

He feels light-headed, lust clouding his mind. It almost drives him crazy, the fact that he’s in a club making out with his psychologist that he only met two times, three if you include this encounter. It’s fucking insane, but since when is Hongbin not? The last straw that breaks all of Hongbin’s walls down is Taekwoon rubbing his crotch with his knee. Hongbin feels his back arch and moans shamelessly at the pleasure. Already, it feels like his body answers to Taekwoon and only him.

 

A hurricane is brewing in Hongbin’s chest— it’s immoral on many levels, but he’s too caught up in the moment to think about ethics. _‘Dick over rationality’_ — Hongbin tries to convince himself as Taekwoon peppers kisses all over his jaw, and does his very best to think about the pleasure only. The struggle only seems to grow as he gets hornier, and he concedes defeat, “Is this even allowed for you?”

 

He prays Taekwoon isn’t able to make out what he just asked, but the kisses stop. “You can always find Dr. Han then,” Taekwoon smirks, and continues with his ministrations, eliciting more moans from Hongbin.

 

“And what if I do?” Hongbin challenges— he decides that they’re too far gone anyway, consequences can come later.

 

To this, Taekwoon growls and puts more pressure, kneeing the hard-on that Hongbin is sporting— he’s fueled by possessiveness. The latter pushes him onto the toilet seat, and settles himself on the former’s lap, legs on either side of his hips. This time, he teases Taekwoon by grinding down hard and is satisfied when he sees Taekwoon’s head thrown back from the sheer pleasure. “Dr. Han is kind of cute, don’t you think?” Hongbin cheekily asks, wanting to rile up Taekwoon; his jealousy a major turn on.

 

Taekwoon kisses him, and bites his lips hard as he almost rips the button off Hongbin’s pants. He’s silent, but obviously fuming with jealousy— “Do you think Sanghyuk can witness you like this?” He then palms aggressively at his leaking member, a dark spot already forming on his briefs. Hongbin only demands for more, rubbing his crotch against Taekwoon’s hand. The psychologist continues his teasing, “How responsive you are to my touches?” — he kneads harder to prove his point, and Hongbin is left breathless, gasping for air as he takes in the contact to his clothed member.

 

“That’s why, this is all for you only,” Hongbin leans in to whisper into Taekwoon’s ear, before licking the shell of it. He attempts to remove Taekwoon’s waistcoat seductively, but only fails horribly when it’s ridiculously tight and hard to loosen up. Taekwoon actually chuckles — and it’s the most enchanting thing that Hongbin has ever heard.

 

Hongbin might be a little dizzy with lust or infatuation, he doesn’t know, but he has never been this certain about his decisions: to be fucked, and perhaps loved, by Jung Taekwoon.

 

Taekwoon’s laugh is melodic and adorable, despite the sultry situation they’re in. His soft voice floods the little world they’re in as he removes his waistcoat, “Looks like you needed some help,” Taekwoon teases, and Hongbin only sulks— he’s not that weak. His mini tantrum is cast aside when Taekwoon kisses him again— the way he kisses and bites at lips teasingly is sinful, and he’s losing grip of his sanity. The difficult piece is now off, and Hongbin hums happily as he roams his hands across the toned chest beneath the white dress shirt, and moves them closer to the trail of buttons to pop them open. The taller man suddenly puts his hand in between Hongbin’s underarms, and lifts him up, his grip strong and firm, and Hongbin loves the way Taekwoon is able to lift him so easily.

 

He’s placed against the wall again, and he gives Taekwoon a puzzled look, but his questions are all answered when Taekwoon gets down to his knees in front of him and between his legs, nosing at the bulge of his underwear.

 

There is an exhilarating thrill to this tryst that they’re having, and Hongbin feels like he’s on a rollercoaster— the enjoyment is immeasurable. It’s surreal, that he’s going through this sexually-charged mess. His head is spinning, eager from anticipation as he drinks in the sight. He feels electricity coursing through his body as Taekwoon pushes down the offending garment, his member exposed now. Taekwoon’s stimulating touch is only a cause of disaster, when Hongbin lets out an embarrassingly loud moan as he feels Taekwoon pumping his cock.

 

“You like this?”

 

Hongbin nods furiously, breathing hard against the wall and leaning on it desperately, legs about to give up soon. He loses his sanity when Taekwoon darts his tongue out to lick the pre-cum that’s coming out of his penis, and he groans from the pleasure— _this has to be real, it must be real_. Everything is hazy as his breaths are heavy, almost audible. He looks down to see Taekwoon on his knees and all the cogwheels in his brain stop working, still unbelieving of the situation. Hongbin cries out when Taekwoon experiments and teases, having a taste of his cock. He sucks at the head lightly, and Hongbin tries to thrust into Taekwoon’s mouth— and he pulls back, shaking his head.

 

“Be patient,” He commands, stern. He grips onto Hongbin’s waist tightly and holds him against the wall to prevent him from moving, with a clear intention to torment. He darts his tongue out again, using it to stroke a vein underneath Hongbin’s cock— eliciting mewls from him, begging Taekwoon for more.

 

He’s hypersensitive, and is trying his best to take note of even the smallest of details, not wanting this to slip away from his hands. He groans at the vision: Taekwoon on the floor for him, Taekwoon being lewd, Taekwoon doing things to him. This forbiddenness can only be a fantasy, and he’s willing to play pretend.

 

Hongbin breaks the moment Taekwoon takes him fully, mouth wrapped around his member as he sucks. Hongbin’s legs are turning into jelly, barely able to support himself. Grabbing onto Taekwoon’s hair, he feels the silky strands and the slight greasiness to it, enjoying the way it feels. Even the smallest stimulation to his five senses seem to arouse him even more, taking in everything with bated breaths and heightened sensory perception.

 

Hongbin nearly cries as Taekwoon deepthroats him, seeing white when he hits the back of Taekwoon’s throat. He’s about to come, but Taekwoon isn’t done with him; he pulls out with a ‘pop’ and wipes his saliva away, leaving Hongbin whining from the loss of contact.

 

Taekwoon stands on his feet, and shoves three of his fingers into Hongbin’s mouth, who silently obeys— but not without giving him a stare that makes Taekwoon’s cock twitch, a sight too erotic. “Touch me,” He orders, and Hongbin all but complies, palming Taekwoon through his pants. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he kneads with more pressure and then soon unzips his trousers, reaching for his dick beneath his underwear. Taekwoon shudders, and removes his fingers from swollen lips. He removes his dress shirt, and that’s when Hongbin gets more turned on; he notices that Taekwoon has a tattoo and he thumbs at it, feeling the ink beneath his calloused fingertip.

 

“These violent delights have violent ends,” Hongbin whispers, stopping his attempt at a handjob to follow the trail of words on prominent ribs. Taekwoon actually growls at this, delighted that it’s attractive to Hongbin, who is giddy, not expecting so many different sides to Taekwoon. He tries to store the image in his brain, admiring the tattoo for as long as he can, outlining each inked letter with his finger.

 

And like the remainder of the quote, Taekwoon kisses him with a fiery passion when he’s done indulging Hongbin, and it brings about an intense lust that will come to be dangerous for the both of them. Taekwoon brings his fingers down towards Hongbin’s hole, and the latter’s breath hitches, giving Taekwoon the opportunity to sink his teeth into plush lips, biting down slightly. Hongbin is buckling into the touch against the rim of his entrance, and he’s pleading for more, for Taekwoon to just—

 

“Fuck,” Hongbin swears, hissing when he feels the insertion, Taekwoon slowly pushing his index in. He fingers him almost tormentingly, movements extremely measured. “More, please,” Hongbin moans wantonly, begging to be filled. After seeing that Hongbin is comfortable enough, he picks up the pace and inserts another finger in, scissoring his hole open. Hongbin is grinding down against his fingers, shameless in his movements for pleasure and Taekwoon only smiles at this, “Needy, aren’t you?” He removes his fingers, and there’s a smug look on his face when Hongbin chokes, submitting to Taekwoon— he desperately needs him.

 

“Hold on tight,” Taekwoon warns, as he grabs the back of Hongbin’s knees and back, lifting him up against the wall of the cubicle. Hongbin yelps, and wraps his arms together behind Taekwoon’s neck, staring into piercing eyes. There’s a mysterious glint to it— somewhat tender, yet aloof; Hongbin doesn’t have the chance to figure it out though— not when he’s gasping at the contact of Taekwoon’s dick against his asshole.

 

Taekwoon kisses Hongbin’s adam apple, and then proceeds to move up his neck, making sure to nose every inch of skin he can reach before he licks the inside of Hongbin’s mouth again. The smaller man is obviously eager at this point, breath hot and heavy against Taekwoon’s mouth, panting into the kiss. It’s driving him crazy: Taekwoon’s strong hands supporting his thigh and backside, the press of his member against his entrance, the outlines of his biceps, his toned body, the damned tattoo— even the wall behind him is contributing to his sensory overload.

 

Taekwoon completely destroys him when he suddenly slams his cock in.

 

Hongbin lets out a shout, and wraps his legs tighter around Taekwoon’s waist, trying to get him to go deeper. There’s the slight friction against his back from the wall, his hair sticking to his forehead, slick with sweat, the pounding in his heart and bottom, and he only sees white; it’s too much for him to take in. He hugs Taekwwon’s face to the crook of his neck, trying to comprehend that all of this mess is real— he’s in the toilet of a club being fucked by his therapist. There’s only the sound of their moans and grunts, not caring about being overheard.

 

He’s suddenly being brought away from the wall, Taekwoon carrying him along as he settles back down on the toilet seat. Hongbin is now on his lap, and Taekwoon is finally pleading, “Ride me, please, Hongbin.”

 

He didn’t have to ask, really— the both of them are equally aching for more. Hongbin is already bouncing hard on his cock, and almost sobs when he’s filled to the hilt, with Taekwoon grabbing his firm buttocks to bring him down as much as he can, the sound of skin slapping against skin fully audible. Hongbin is pulling on Taekwoon’s hair, and he memorises the way Jung Taekwoon looks when he’s sex dazed: tousled hair, hooded eyes, immoral sounds escaping from his pretty lips, the shine on his face from sweat.

 

“I’m close,” Hongbin chokes out when Taekwoon hits a sweet spot, and it only motivates the latter to thrust harder, if even possible. There’s a hand to his dick, and Hongbin notes the large veins protruding from it as it pumps him aggressively. His asshole is clenching hard, indicating that his climax is near. There’s a ring in his ear as he comes, squirting white all over Taekwoon’s chest and hand. He nearly blacks out, the intensity too much for him. Taekwoon is near too, seeing as how he rams into him faster and faster, biting his own lips hard as he tries to reach for his orgasm. He only holds on tighter, desperately wanting to feel the warmth of Taekwoon’s fluids leaking from his ass.

 

Taekwoon jerks, cumming in Hongbin’s hole. His eyes are squeezed shut, breathing in and out deeply as he rests his head on Hongbin’s collarbones. His white t-shirt is now translucent from sweat, and Taekwoon notes the well-defined abs, running his palm across it as he tries to get a feel.

 

“You’re so fucking fit,” Taekwoon soughs, and Hongbin only smirks in response, but his heart flutters when Taekwoon puts a hand on his face and continues, “And beautiful.” He doesn’t know what Taekwoon sees in him, not when his makeup is ruined and black ink smudged all over his eye area. Hongbin laughs, albeit self-consciously, and the psychologist notices.

 

“Don’t try to hide yourself from me,” he says, and kisses Hongbin this time in a way so intimate and unlike the previous kisses they just shared. It’s almost chaste, and words die from his mouth when he sees Taekwoon looking into his eyes like he just found the most precious object in the universe. He presses their foreheads together, and rawly - with his walls all broken down - he whispers a promise of ‘okay’.

 

With glossy eyes and one last glance into an image that he may never experience again, he leans in to kiss Taekwoon like how he needs air in his lungs.

 

(You also need it when you’re drowning.)

 

-

 

There’s a pounding in his head, and Hongbin stirs awake to lights that are too bright for his liking and a bed that feels like home.

 

_Too much like home._

 

He’s suddenly alert, grogginess completely gone as he looks around his surroundings, baffled as to why is he home. He’s in a pair of sweats, makeup completely wiped off from his face. He feels clean too, no traces of sweat on him. The door is open, and sounds are coming from his kitchen. Dragging himself out of bed, he finds a figure cooking, silhouette familiar— it’s Jaehwan.

 

Feeling the intensity of his headache grow as he tries to recall the events of last night, he whines from the pain and Jaehwan turns around, ladle in hand. “Oh, Hongbin. You’re finally awake. You were so gross last night—”

 

“What happened?” Hongbin interrupts, clearly confused at this point. He’s very sure he had sex with Taekwoon last night, and that it’s not a dream for sure. He doesn’t understand a thing at all, and refuses to comprehend his current situation, he should at least be with Taekwoon, or there should at least be some traces of the mind-blowing sex he had. He’s almost having a panic attack, desperately praying that this, and not last night, is just a dream.

 

“You passed out at the club last night. I happened to be calling and some janitor picked up, saying you were unconscious in the toilet. I had to fucking call Hakyeon to ask if I should be taking you to the hospital because you just had to drink while you’re on psychiatric drugs—” Jaehwan is going on a full rant, completely ignoring Hongbin’s mantra of ‘no’s as he painfully tries to understand the situation. The hungover boy shouts in frustration as he struggles to recall what exactly happened afterwards, and Jaehwan pauses, shocked at his reaction.

 

“Is something wrong?” Jaehwan asks, concern creased all over his forehead.

 

Hongbin is holding his head in his hands, a million thoughts rushing through his mind. He clearly has such vivid memories: the whole conversation, how Taekwoon actually smokes, his tattoo— it’s not possible that it was merely a dream, or hallucination if he dares call it.

 

Then he remembers the slight haze, how everything around him was dizzying and how he was blinded by infatuation and lust. It feels like a distant memory, and he’s terrified, extremely perturbed. He stares at Jaehwan, eyes watery as his panic grows. “Please, Jaehwan— I, I need to go to the clinic, I think I’m going mad again—” He’s pleading, wanting so badly to prove that last night wasn’t a dream. He’s choked up, desperation taking over him as he feels the entire world crashing down on him, falling onto his knees on the carpet.

 

He needs something to feel that he’s real, and so Jaehwan cups his face, asking Hongbin to look at him in the eye— but all Hongbin can see is Jung Taekwoon’s hooded eyes when he fucked him, the sultry glint he had when he approached him last night and how he looked at him so intimately as they came down from their high. He panics even more, not wanting to look at Jaehwan even. He’s losing grip, and he only wants Taekwoon’s gaze to be on him, to assure him, to tell him that last night wasn’t a dream.

 

Jaehwan releases his grip, understanding that Hongbin doesn’t want any form of contact now. He phones Hakyeon, asking if he can squeeze in Hongbin for today.

 

“Yes, it’s urgent,” Jaehwan says, hurriedly, as he turns around to look at a shell-shocked Hongbin. He sighs in relief when Hakyeon agrees to see him today, and thanks him profusely. Hanging up, he gets a blanket and places it over Hongbin, rubbing his arms comfortingly. “It’s okay, it will be okay,” Jaehwan hums, heart breaking at the sight of his friend— he’s terribly worried that something may have happened before he found him.

 

“Hakyeon will see you at 7pm, at the end of his clinic shift. Can you hold on till then?” Jaehwan asks, cautiously reaching for Hongbin’s trembling hands. They’re cold, and his skin is pale. He wishes that he could do something to fix his best friend, to see the bubbly and confident Hongbin from their high school years. Hongbin nods, eyes empty as if his soul has completely diminished.

 

As much as Jaehwan is angry over the events of last night, he reminds himself that Hongbin has his reasons, he just needed to escape, needed some release. He tries not to overthink it, but something is honestly bugging him. He looks over to his shaken friend, and fidgets around in worry, waiting for the clock to indicate that it’s 6PM, so they can start heading towards the clinic.

 

-

 

“You sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Jaehwan asks, holding onto the handle of the door that leads to Hakyeon’s consultation room. He stares at his friend: pale face breaking out in sweat, eyes swollen and sunken look in general. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk things through when he’s already so spent from his panic earlier on.

 

Hongbin only nods, giving a broken smile as he tries to assure Jaehwan that he’ll be fine.

 

He knocks on the door, and enters while smiling once again at Jaehwan, whispering to him that it’ll be fine before he disappears behind the door. Only the ‘clicking sound of the door being closed finally makes Jaehwan back off, and he walks to the row of chairs in the waiting area, settling down on one of them as he waits for Hongbin.

 

He notices the name plaque on the room beside Hakyeon’s, and for some reason it rings a bell to him.

 

_Dr. Jung Taekwoon_  
_Psychological Medicine_

 

Jaehwan is still trying to figure out what’s with the familiarity behind the name when a tall man with broad shoulders comes out of the room, carrying a child in his arms with a bright smile as he passes them back to their parents.

 

“Hanbyul seems to be making a lot of progress, I’m very pleased with it,” The psychologist says, face still beaming as he coos at the child, who is now trying to grab at his face as he’s being held in his mother’s arm. Ruffling the kid’s hair, he bids goodbye and goes back into the room.

 

Observing the whole situation, Jaehwan only gets more confused by the increasing sense of familiarity, but he tries to shrug it off as he has enough worries. He diverts his attention back to the door of Hakyeon’s room, tapping his feet against the carpeted floor nervously.

 

There still remains the feeling of unsettledness within Jaehwan, though.

 

-

 

“I’m so sorry that it wasn’t in a professional way, but I heard from Jaehwan about what happened last night,” Hakyeon apologises, and then folds his hands together— he’s ready to play his psychiatrist role now.

 

Hongbin stutters, not sure on how he should start. There’s a flurry of thoughts rushing through his head, and he’s not sure how to approach this. There is honestly only one obvious issue: are his fantasies so extreme that he hallucinated a whole scene of him being fucked by his psychologist? Hongbin fears the consequences and judgements he would receive if he told the psychiatrist, so he just stays silent.

 

“You drank while you’re on psychiatric medications. That’s dangerous, Hongbin; you even blacked out,” Dr. Cha says, tone stern, “Were you perhaps troubled? I see that you didn’t turn up for your appointment with Taekwoon yesterday too.”

 

His mind immediately flashes back to when he made the decision to get some release, and all he wants to do is just bolt out of the room now. It’s suffocating to look at Dr. Cha and not tell him about what may have happened between him and Taekwoon, and he struggles internally whether to say the truth.

 

He winces, his change in facial expression obvious and Dr. Cha only waits patiently for him to talk about it. Hongbin gulps, trying to persuade himself to be honest. There are many reasons for him to be discussing this: possible hallucinations, catching feelings for his psychologist, and his uncontrollable desires.

 

The words just refuse to come out.

 

It’s almost as if his tongue is tied up, and there’s a pressure on his throat. He opens his mouth over and over, wanting to force himself to at least say something, but he only ends up closing it in defeat. The psychiatrist notes this, and Hongbin only gets more stressed out— it’s obvious that he has something to say, but can’t.

 

“It’s all right. You don’t have to say if you can’t.”

 

All the air Hongbin has been holding in his lungs leaves his body, almost deflating at the sound of assurance. He looks up guiltily, wishing that he could have just revealed even a tiny bit of what’s going on. He knows this is fucked up, and he doesn’t want to be enjoying it, but he can’t let go of it either.

 

Dr. Cha blinks again, “It’s fine, really. Do you want me to get Taekwoon—”

 

“No!” Hongbin almost yells, and it startles the both of them. Dr. Cha only pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, trying to find composure over the sudden outburst. He starts to feel fishy about something, but he doesn’t say, and only types away at his keyboard. Hongbin knows that his every action and word is analyzed, and he hates it, hates it so much that he stands abruptly and thanks the psychiatrist for his work.

 

He really doesn’t want to be read like an open book.

 

“Hongbin?”

 

“I’m sorry if you had to work overtime for this. I— this— this is a mistake,” Hongbin says, flustered. He just wants to go back home and cry, to be vulnerable within the comfort of his four walls only. Dr. Cha sees his panic and worry flashes across his eyes, but he only nods in understanding, not wanting to cause further emotional conflict. Before Hongbin leaves, he speaks up again, assuring him once more, “I’m always happy to help. You didn’t waste my time. I’ll book you an appointment with me for next week; if you still feel that you aren’t ready, you can always postpone it.”

 

Hongbin only nods, eyes downcast as he closes the room door behind him. He feels a wave of regret crashing into him for not mentioning a word about Jung Taekwoon, and he leaves with a heavy heart.

 

-

 

Jaehwan holds his shoulders gently, noticing his friend’s demeanour as soon as he’s out of the room— he’s obviously shaken, and close to tears. It’s the same sight he has seen many times, and he feels a pang in his heart over Hongbin’s broken expression. The boy suddenly seems so small, so shrivelled up. Jaehwan has never seen someone so sad before— heck, Hongbin might as well be sadness personified right now.

 

“Binnie?” — a nickname that he hasn’t used in ages.

 

This lifts the boy’s head a little, and he only stares at Jaehwan curiously, mildly surprised at the resurfaced pet name. Jaehwan sees that his eyes are glossy, and he holds the boy’s head, placing it on his shoulder. He moves them slowly to the chairs, and he only pats at his hair, silent. Hongbin is biting his lips at this point, feeling his vision blur further as the seconds go by, trying his very best to hold in tears. Not here, not when there’s—

 

“You don’t have to hold it in, Binnie,” Jaehwan soothes him, and the floodgates immediately open. Hongbin sobs and sobs and sobs. He’s wracked with tears, cheeks sticky and nose blocked. Jaehwan feels the subtle vibration of Hongbin’s torso against his body, and he only closes his eyes, willing himself to not cry too. He really wishes that he can take all of Hongbin’s pain and make it his, to take his inhibitions and insecurities away.

 

A spot on Jaehwan’s blouse dampens with tears, and the darkness is only spreading further. Hongbin really isn’t holding back this time, and Jaehwan turns to hug him, hoping to provide a more sturdy support. They stay like this, ignoring all the staff that are leaving for home. The clinic is dark, with the exception of a few lights from some rooms— Jaehwan is stubborn about not going until Hongbin is done.

 

_We just need to cry it all out, sometimes._

 

A door opens, and Jaehwan turns around to see if it’s Hakyeon, but it only turned out to be the mysterious psychologist from earlier, and the said figure is staring right back at Jaehwan, then looks over to Hongbin, curious expression on his face.

 

“Hongbin?”

 

At this, Jaehwan feels Hongbin freeze in his arms, and he immediately makes the connection— this man is the psychologist Hongbin has been gawking about in his works. He doesn’t know what happened, but the author’s reaction here is weird— he clings onto Jaehwan tighter and refuses to acknowledge his presence, just like a child.

 

As if he was hurt.

 

“He doesn’t want to talk,” Jaehwan snaps, protectiveness taking over him. The man - Jung Taekwoon - only purses his lips together, before he walks up closer to them, informing Hongbin he has a make-up appointment in three days. He seems to contemplate giving Hongbin a rub on the arm, but pulls his hand back at the sight of a disgruntled Jaehwan. “All right. Feel better soon, please,” Taekwoon says earnestly, leaving Jaehwan unable to tell if he seems to genuinely not know what’s wrong. His tone was sincere, raw and well-meaning, but before Jaehwan could question him, Taekwoon is already headed for the exit, done with the day’s work.

 

Hakyeon is the only one that isn’t out yet, and he’s only getting more concerned: a wrecked Hongbin in his arms, his best friend’s psychologist not giving a very trustworthy impression, and the fact that Hakyeon is staying in his office, not coming out to update Jaehwan.

 

A hoarse voice cuts into his thoughts, and it’s Hongbin requesting to go home. Jaehwan smiles, relieved that he seems a little better, shoulders no longer as sunken and head lifted up slightly.

 

“Want to grab some jajangmyeon and tangsuyuk on the way back? Rent some old movies? We can even marathon the whole Harry Potter series! Let’s call Wonshik too,” he rambles excitedly when he sees a small smile making its way through the Hongbin’s face, ruffling his hair.

 

“Sure,” Hongbin chuckles, wiping away at his snot and tears. Grabbing onto Jaehwan’s arm affectionately, they exit the clinic, the both of them trying hard to focus on the comfort they’re seeking in each other only.

 

Hongbin holds Jaehwan closer to him, apologetic about worrying Jaehwan; he doesn’t want to be a burdensome load even after all these years. Now, he only drags his innocent friend into a secret that he doesn’t even know of, and guilt is consuming him.

 

It only feels worse when Jaehwan rests his hand on Hongbin’s arm, relishing his touch. .

 

-

 

Hakyeon is reading through the feedback he received from the trauma psychology team, and he sighs in relief when it reads that Hongbin will be able to do just fine with a regular psychologist until he’s able to open up about his trauma. He still has much more work to do though, with the report from Taekwoon lying on his desk and his clinical notes from Hongbin’s first psychotherapy session, which he needs to review again. Then on the computer is Hongbin’s electronic file and prescriptions— it’s going to be a long night for Hakyeon again.

 

Hongbin was treated at the same hospital where Taekwoon was working at, for fuck’s sake. 

Hakyeon rubs at his temple, wanting to slap himself for not realising that fact, and his suspicions starts to rise— what if Hongbin was the one that Taekwoon broke professional boundaries over?

He heard the sounds of sniffles from the corridor, and he feels bad for being unable to provide Hongbin with a safe space. Looking over at Taekwoon’s notes again, he realises that Hongbin is able to express that vulnerability well with the senior psychologist, and his therapy plans seem like a good strategy too. 

Some ibuprofen will definitely help the headache that Hakyeon is suffering right now

They’ve been friends since college, and he really doesn’t want to doubt his capabilities and heart. He has put the past behind them and only seen Taekwoon wanting the best for his patients: going the extra mile, getting emotional whenever someone is discharged from treatment, and has brought many happy smiles and compliments from parents when informed about their child’s progress. He even specifically asked Taekwoon to resign from his post at Seoul National University Hospital to join hands with him in opening this clinic after all.

 

Even after _that_ , Hakyeon still trusted Taekwoon to work in his clinic, and now he should trust the decision he made to help him three years ago.

 

Hakyeon thinks it through carefully for almost an hour before sending out a text message to Taekwoon — ‘You can keep the case’. Rubbing his face as he looks up in the ceiling, he ignores the reply that came afterwards. It’ll just be a word of thanks, anyway, and a few emojis.

 

Having made a firm decision, he shoves whatever apprehension aside and packs everything neatly, glad to be done with the day.

 

-

 

Wonshik puts a blanket over a snoozing Hongbin, tucking him in. Jaehwan is out at the balcony, cigarette lit and smoke dissipating into the night sky. The coffee table in the living room is cluttered: styrofoam bowls, sauce containers, napkins and disposable utensils are all over. They were only halfway into ‘The Prisoner of Azkaban’ when Hongbin dozed off on Wonshik’s shoulder, exhausted from the day’s events. The movie is still playing, albeit silently.

 

“I thought you quit,” Wonshik says, the cool night air biting at his skin. He sees the weariness in Jaehwan’s eyes, the darkness of the night not making it any better. They can hear the ticking of the clock from the living room, silence flooding between them as they stare out into the city lights, deep in reflection.

 

“Hongbin’s in pain,” Jaehwan only explains, taking another puff of nicotine, “Why am I always this helpless?”

 

There’s the sound of a beer can opening, and Jaehwan looks over at Wonshik to see that it’s coming from him, relieved when it isn’t the boy who’s sleeping in the bedroom. He was slightly afraid that it may have been Hongbin overhearing their conversation.

 

Taking a sip of the bitter liquid, Wonshik only sighs as he remembers them having this conversation three years ago — _You’ve always gave him 100%._

 

And tonight, he says it again but it’s different.

 

“You’d still look for ways to give him more,” He quips, turning around to look at Jaehwan, who only agrees silently. They both know very well it’s true, and the process is almost killing him. Three years later and Jaehwan still has to check on him frequently, still has to be harping over the past because the present hasn’t changed, and still has to be his refuge and strength.

 

Not that he doesn’t want to, but Jaehwan is only human, and he’s tired.

 

He has stuck by Hongbin for seven years, and it’s distressing for him to witness his regression through the time they have spent together. He was the smartest, topped almost every class without an ounce of stress, and even tutored those who struggled with their grades. It’s almost a faded memory— the days where Hongbin didn’t have eyebags, his face radiant and bright, smiles genuine and a heart that is so passionate.

 

Who knew rejection could cause so much paranoia?

 

Slowly, Hongbin’s confidence ebbed away the moment he received the dreaded letters, informing him that he was unfortunately rejected after the interview round for all three medical schools he had applied for. He started to hole himself up, not leaving his bed for days because all he wanted to figure out was what’s wrong with him. Jaehwan had to drag him to the shower to clean him up, make sure he was eating all his meals, and that he was at least functioning decently.

 

When Jaehwan heard Hongbin wanted to pursue literature instead, he was shocked that the latter didn’t even try for a related course or even the other medical schools outside of the SKY circle, and chose to go for something way out of his passion. Jaehwan regrets not persuading him to do so. He knew Hongbin could write beautifully, and so he thought it would be a good back up plan. But when his first poetry book flopped, he became resigned and worse than before.

 

Now his own regrets present themselves as an ache in his heart, and he doesn’t dare imagine how it feels from Hongin’s perspective. There’s a cough, and it grabs Jaehwan’s attention— he’s been zoning into space for minutes. His eyes feel heavy as he turns to look at Wonshik, sentimentalism heavy in his chest.

 

“But why is he still regressing so much?”

 

There’s tears welling up in Jaehwan’s eyes now, guilt crashing into him like waves, like how the tides felt against him three years ago.

 

“You can’t expect to cure him by loving him,” Wonshik answers, gulping his drink as Jaehwan looks away in dismay, aware that his words are of truth, but it still stings. Crushing his now empty can of beer, he continues, “Love can’t stabilise a messed up brain chemistry, like how you can’t kiss away the flu,“

 

“In fact, I’ll get the flu,” Jaehwan murmurs, acknowledging the harsh remark. He’s drained, spent from being anxious all the time. He desperately wants to help, but he doesn’t know how. He hates to admit it: Hongbin is draining him.

 

They’re drowning together, and the sensation is distressingly familiar.

 

-

 

_Hongbin is falling, falling, and falling._

 

_There’s a fog in front of him, and it’s hazy. He finds himself in a foreign place, and it’s wet. Half of his body is submerged in water, and it doesn’t feel natural, it’s not right, he can’t be conscious. There’s sirens going off, but there’s only water around him. His head is throbbing, and there’s a sharp pain in his back. His stomach feels like it has exploded, and then he hears Jaehwan and unknown voices screaming his name._

 

_He feels heavy, his legs no longer working and it weighs him down as he slowly sinks. Someone dives next to him. There are hands attempting to carry him out, and it only causes more injury. He’s resisting, fighting through the excruciating pain in order to meet the deep end of the ocean. The person struggles with Hongbin’s resistance, but is extremely determined to save him._

 

_The pain is too much to handle, and he submits to the rescue attempt. As soon as he’s out of the water, air rushes into his lungs and pain stabs him almost everywhere. Before he can think about diving back in again, the world turns to black._

 

-

 

Hongbin wakes up like a fish out of water. He’s gasping hard for breath, and he’s sweating profusely. The pain in his back just makes it worse, on top of the trigger from the dream. He immediately covers his ears, incessant ringing starting again.

 

What seems like an endless series of cutscenes that narrate the trauma he has suffered flashes behind his bewildered eyes and a shout echoes in the room. He continuously pleads for it to go away, wanting the cogwheels in his head to stop turning. He grabs for his phone, crying out of desperation this time as the pain in his back intensifies, and tries to think who he can call. With trembling hands, he ends up dialing the clinic number, Jung Taekwoon coming to mind. The person behind the line greets him, and he only hyperventilates more in an attempt to sound coherent when asked if anything’s the problem.

 

“I need to see Dr. Jung urgently, please. Tell him it’s Lee Hongbin,” He blubbers out, hiccuping as he does so and he continues to cry while he hears the sound of shuffling through the phone. He hopes hard that Taekwoon has a slot today, because he’s at a loss and he doesn’t know what will he do if he has to ride through this alone.

 

“He only can see you once he’s done with clinic, but he said that you can just come down first,” the stranger on the line finally replies, and he thanks them profusely, although he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to make out what he’s saying.

 

He’s overwhelmed by relief, and he falls back onto his bed. Tears are still leaking from his eyes, and he hugs his legs to his chest, crying into his pillow as he muffles his sobs. Hongbin regrets many things, and among them was the jump he took: nearly drowning Jaehwan when he tried to rescue him, the pain of his actions, and the many hands that pinned him down when he woke up delirious in the ICU. It only triggers more tears, and he weeps harder.

 

He doesn’t know if he regrets living on too.

 

-

 

Hongbin arrives at the clinic at 5PM, his eyes puffy. He’s wearing a cap, ashamed of his pathetic expression. Quietly registering his name at the counter, he tries to be as inconspicuous as possible.

 

His day only gets worse when Taekwoon is done with a patient at that exact moment, and they run into each other in the corridor. The psychologist recognises him instantly, and tells the small kid whose hand he has been holding to go to his parents. Hongbin should be melting at the sight, but he’s too busy panicking and thinking about how he should act in front of Taekwoon, aware that he looks like a mess right now.

 

“Hongbin? Do you want to wait in a private room? My next patient isn’t here yet, so I can talk to you for a bit— because I can only see you at 7PM,” Taekwoon says, staring into his eyes with concern. He’s looking at him softly, and his hand is placed comfortingly on Hongbin’s forearm.

 

He evades the psychologist’s gaze, embarrassed after remembering his apparent hallucination. Hongbin feels horrible, and a pang of self-disgust hits him immediately. He doesn’t have time to shake his head and reject Taekwoon’s offer, because he’s already being dragged somewhere— an unused room. The door is closed behind them, and Taekwoon seats the both of them down on a couch.

 

“Are you okay?” Taekwoon asks, and removes the cap that Hongbin is wearing. His voice is soft as usual, and his tone is of warmth and kindness, “You don’t look very well. Did something happen yesterday? That’s why in the corridor…?”

 

“Not that, please,” Hongbin closes his eyes, not wanting to remember his illusions. He looks down again, mind trying to shift back to the topic he intended to talk about. On the verge of tears, he tries to find courage to tell Taekwoon about three years ago.

 

“I had a nightmare about my… trauma. Then it triggered a flashback,” he starts off hesitatingly, testing the waters. The psychologist nods for him to go on, eyes only glimmering with empathy and understanding.

 

Hongbin gulps, trying his best to force the words out of his mouth, and he barely manages, croaking out, “My suicide attempt three years ago.” He glances at Taekwoon, and then quickly shifts his focus away to avoid seeing his reaction.

 

Unfortunately, before he can brace himself for what is to come, there’s a knock on the door, and it’s a nurse. She calls for Dr. Jung, informing him that his patient is here. Taekwoon only looks apologetically at Hongbin as he has no choice but to leave at this inapt timing, wishing he could say more. It’s going to be a heavy topic though, and there’s no way that he’d be able to squeeze it into the few minutes they have. He almost feels bad, and holds Hongbin’s hand, warmth enveloping it as he speaks in that gentle tone of his again.

 

“Thank you for being brave. I want to talk about this with you properly, and not when I have to rush off somewhere. Please wait till I’m done with my list, all right? If there’s anything, text this number, it’s my work phone.”

 

Hongbin barely gets to relish in the contact of Taekwoon’s hand before it’s taken away, and the psychologist is leaving the room. He slumps back against the couch, and looks at the slip of paper on his hand, staring incredulously at the scribbled digits. Undeniably, there’s a feeling of excitement within him, but he tries to quell it as soon as it blooms.

 

It’s only his work phone number.

 

He immediately whips out his phone, trembling as he keys in the psychologist’s number. Many thoughts race across his mind, suddenly wanting to look for a topic to talk to him about. Though as he types, he backspaces— Hongbin is unsure whether he should do this. Having the desire for attention yet not wanting to be caught for it, he presses the device against his forehead, wrestling with himself if he should send Taekwoon anything at all.

 

Just as he figures that a simple ‘thank you’ message will suffice, there’s a buzz against his skin. Hongbin looks up to take a look at the notification, and his jaw drops. He closes his eyes and massages his temples, then puts the phone slightly further away from him as his hands shake at the name of the sender. With the phone against the background of the clinic, this has to be real; Hongbin really isn’t dreaming this time, it’s—

 

**Jung Taekwoon:**  
_Do you want to talk about it over dinner instead? I’m sorry, I’m really hungry._


	4. skeletons in a closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their relationship goes deeper, many things start to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the terribly late update! School stress got to me and then I had to dislocate my pinky and develop tendonitis, but I'm finally back and updating! This chapter may be a bit hard to understand, so this is a heads up that I shift from the past to the present a lot in this chapter!

They find themselves in a bar restaurant, Hongbin downing a mocktail after the psychologist warned him against consuming alcohol. It’s weird, really— he’s eating sushi in a Japanese-themed bar and sharing drinks with his therapist.

“It’s been a really long day, and I thought this might make you more comfortable sharing,” Taekwoon says, stuffing his mouth with nigiri, and Hongbin pushes away the thought of how he imagined shoving his cock into Taekwoon’s mouth. He gulps, and proceeds to chug his glass of water.

There’s a moment of silence as Hongbin tries to gather his thoughts, not knowing where to start. It’s hard to concentrate, when this is kind of like a date. His mind keeps wandering off to another direction: holding Taekwoon’s hand, whispering sweet nothings and exchanging flirty remarks. He tries not to stare at Taekwoon’s elongated, pretty hands and his pinkish lips, not wanting to relive his shameful wet dreams.

Hongbin tries to focus on the main point of their meeting, and thinks of water instead, how much it hurt when his body crashed into the ocean. He finds himself tearing up, and decides this is the best moment to share all of it— he’s already showing his vulnerable side anyway.

“I jumped off Mapo Bridge three years ago,” Hongbin chokes up, feeling an overwhelming sense of disgust taking over him as he takes the time to think through and stop being insecure about sharing his story, “I don’t know how I survived— I thought it’ll be a guaranteed death but I…”

Tears began to slip out of Hongbin’s eyes, and he blows into a tissue, feeling the need to explain to Taekwoon, “Ah, I’m sorry I just—”

“I understand it’s difficult. Take your time, you don’t have to force yourself,” Taekwoon assures, and places a hand comfortingly on Hongbin’s one. The warmth helps to ground him a little, and he tries his very best to put his attention on Taekwoon, to not fall back into the memories of the past.

The present is only what matters, right?

“The recovery was so fucking painful, that it made me wish I had died right there and then.” — Hongbin’s voice is cracking, he’s unable to look up at Taekwoon as he recounts all of the upsetting moments that have occured in that timeline. The psychologist only nods, and gives him an empathetic look. His hand is still on Hongbin’s, and he lightly caresses it with his thumb, trying his best to ground Hongbin, before he starts looking for his past ghosts again. “It was painful, but you managed to get through that right?” Taekwoon is reminding him; Hongbin has that strength in him, he always has.

“I was hospitalised for three months. My vertebrae was practically shattered, and some of the pieces even stabbed my stomach. I had a severe concussion too,” Hongbin looks away, feeling a tide of shame crashing into him. His heart jumps when he feels a hand grabbing his chin gently and his face is brought up to look into warm, loving (or at least Hongbin thinks so) eyes. Taekwoon whispers very softly as he brings up his other hand to cradle Hongbin’s face, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling.”

Time seems to stop around them, as the rest of the world moves on. They have their little moment— almost frozen in time while servers are still scurrying around, taking orders and sending it to the chef and helping to clear the bar area. Chatter from other guests is muted, and what you can really hear is only the sound of Hongbin’s heart thumping loudly in his chest and Taekwoon’s gentle assurances.

Hongbin doesn’t want this to be a really vivid dream or hallucination again, and so he holds onto Taekwoon’s large hand with his tiny one, tightly. He begs him to not let go, there’s too much comfort in this for it to just be a moment, Hongbin needs this for an eternity — “Don’t let go, if this is real.”

“This is real,” Taekwoon says, firmly, and traces Hongbin’s laugh lines with his thumbs to accentuate that fact.

“But why do you always seem so far away?” — it’s almost dreamlike now, and Hongbin is holding onto this tightly, as if it may slip away from his hands again. Taekwoon only looks at him intensely, as if at a loss on how to prove himself. He seems to be pondering, but the frown on his face indicates that he has given up when he decides to ask Hongbin, “Then what can I do for you to feel that this is real?”

“Kiss me.”

And so Taekwoon does. He caresses Hongbin’s lips lightly before he brings his head closer to him, and the tension between them builds up as they feel each other’s hot breaths against their lips. Hongbin then takes the courage to swoop in and claim Taekwoon’s soft, pink lips, kissing them till it becomes a swollen red. The latter lets him take control as he wraps his arm around Hongbin’s petite waist, enjoying the way Hongbin is biting his lips softly as he kisses him. However, Taekwoon decides that he wants more, and prods at the entrance of Hongbin’s mouth, wanting to lick its caverns.

There’s a switch in dominance now: Taekwoon’s tongue softly tangling itself with Hongbin’s, and Hongbin just lets him— they’re kissing each other with a passion that’s more fiery than fire itself, a lust so sought after and desired. They’re both dying to take it deeper, though they remember that they are making out in the middle of a sushi bar and they break the kiss. The two of them are panting hard, waiting for oxygen to fill their lungs again. Hongbin takes a look at Taekwoon’s dishevelled appearance and swollen lips, and it’s so beautiful to him— Jung Taekwoon is so goddamn beautiful.

Taekwoon can say the same for Hongbin too, and he craves so much more. He puts a wad of cash on the table, and takes Hongbin’s hand in his, leaving the place.

“Where are we going?” Hongbin asks, a little startled by the sudden move.

“My apartment,” Taekwoon replies casually as they walk to his car, but then stops in his steps to look at Hongbin, looking for any signs of hesitance. Hongbin only smiles, and Taekwoon feels like it’s the brightest thing he has ever seen— that it almost erases the guilt in his chest.

Almost.

This breaks all of the rules about therapist-patient relationships, but he’s looking at Hongbin and he can’t help but take in the beauty that he is: tousled hair, bright eyes, dimples, his wide shoulders and small waist. Jung Taekwoon decides that this is a rule worth breaking, and he opens the car door for Hongbin, inviting him in. There’s a pounding in his chest to warn him against this: this is the thrill of doing something that’s out of bounds, the excitement prodding at him with only a minute amount of rationality about the subsequent consequences.

He opens the car door for Hongbin, then kisses him, smiling as he pulls back. Putting a hand over Hongbin’s head as he enters the car, he leans in for one final peck before running back to the driver’s seat excitedly, grin on his face.

-

The excitement dies down as soon as the quietness in the car envelopes them, awkwardness hanging in the air. Both of them feel the need to make small talk, it’s like the two of them suddenly became school boys who have been paired with their crushes. Taekwoon occasionally glances at Hongbin as he drives through the city lights, wanting to say something, but nothing comes to mind at all, and he shifts his focus back on the road.

There’s an obvious elephant in the space that they share— they need to talk about what’s between them. ‘We should talk’ lingers in the atmosphere, an action so necessary but the words unspoken and perhaps not wanting to be heard of. Is Taekwoon willing to put his license at stake again? Is Hongbin willing to accept the shame of catching feelings for his therapist? They both clearly know about the precarious position they have place themselves in, yet they continue to thread, following their heart instead of their minds. Infatuation is pure insanity for the both of them.

Hongbin shakes his catastrophizing thoughts away, and shyly grabs at Taekwoon’s hand - the one on the gear stick - and smiles timidly at him, who responds by staring at him in mild shock, and his face turns into a gentle expression where he looks at Hongbin endearingly.

In that moment, it looks like things may just work out.

-

Hongbin gasps a little when the lights are turned on in Taekwoon’s apartment, marvelled by the sleek interior. It’s mostly monochrome and bland, but something about it still feels homey, with pictures of what seems like his family and colleagues that are organised neatly on shelves. There’s also a grand piano in the living area, and Hongbin feels a shiver down his spine at the thought of Taekwoon actually knowing how to play.

His awe doesn’t last long, as seen in the trepidation in his footstep after he removes his shoes. It’s heartwarming, really, that Taekwoon brought him over but now it feels like he’s at the wrong place, as if he’s trespassing.

Maybe by stepping into this space, he’s broken the boundaries of what’s supposed to be between them— a professional relationship: Jung Taekwoon is his therapist, and Hongbin is just one of his patients. There’s an uncomfortable shiver that courses through his chest, but Taekwoon grabs his arm and drags him to the couch, sitting him down.

Hongbin nervously darts his eyes around, observing the framed photos that line the cabinet below the television set, and he sees pictures of what he assumes to be Taekwoon’s family— his parents, two sisters and a kid.

“The kid is cute,” Hongbin quips, giddy at the thought of Taekwoon being great with children. Taekwoon looks at him in mild confusion, and then realises Hongbin was staring at a framed picture of him and Minyul. The child psychologist smiles fondly, affection in his voice as he replies— “He’s my nephew.”

A silence ensues, both parties unsure of how they should really be approaching the topic about… them. Attachment be damned, none of these fulfilments of his fantasies are helping him. Hongbin looks down at his fingers, peeling at his nails anxiously as he tries to think of what to say; the fear of rejection is clouding his mind and he can’t think.

Taekwoon notices, and he grabs Hongbin’s hand, massaging it lightly as he chides, “I told you not to do that.”

Hongbin looks at him, eyes full of pain as he feels a pounding in his chest. He’s there by his side in a way so intimate and personal, but yet at the same time he feels like Taekwoon is a complete stranger

Fear or love, he doesn’t really know.

Hongbin makes the first move.

“What are we?”

The warmth on his hand is gone, with Taekwoon pulling away as if he has been burned. His eyes are wide - as if he’s just realised something, or the mistake he has made - and he runs his hand through his hair anxiously. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I love you,” Taekwoon mutters. Hongbin looks up, not believing what he just heard. Taekwoon looks at him proper this time, and slowly puts his hand back onto Hongbin’s and squeezes, “I love you. And I’m scared—”

Hongbin interlaces their hands together, interrupting him, “Looks like we’re on the same boat, huh?”

Taekwoon thinks— _consequences, consequences, consequences_ ; but there’s a sweet reward in front of him and he can’t find himself caring anymore. “It’s okay,” He whispers, and then proceeds to lean in for a slow, passionate kiss to affirm his decision and declare his love once again.

“If you think it’s okay, then it will be,” Hongbin pulls back, and they rub their noses together, relishing the temporal joy they have.

-

 Hongbin wakes.

He’s in an unfamiliar space: the sheets are grey (his are always white), the bed beneath him feels more comfortable than his very own, and there’s a man sleeping next to him, or rather, Hongbin is snuggling into the man’s neck, head rested on a firm chest— it’s Jung Taekwoon.

Admittedly, he’s startled and feels like he’s unable to discern whether the situation is real or not. He picks up his hand, and traces a finger along the man’s jawline, feels his eyebrow hair along the pad of his fingers and then follows the defined bridge of his nose.

“Is this real, or not real?” Hongbin whispers to himself, taking in every touch he can get of Taekwoon’s face. A hand suddenly grabs his, and a groggy reply comes— “Real.”

Now he’s staring into half-opened eyes, close to squeezing shut again from exhaustion— but his gaze is there, that strong gaze that Hongbin always recognises as part of Jung Taekwoon. The psychologist only intertwines their hands together, and places a kiss sloppily on Hongbin’s forehead.

“You need to learn how to tell when a moment is real, love,” he says, and Hongbin only looks up at him with pleading eyes that reads how am I supposed to and Taekwoon only leans in to kiss him again, on the lips this time. When they finally break apart, Taekwoon asks, “You can feel that right? My lips against yours, how there’s a little sweat coming from the spaces in our palms and in between our fingers as we hold hands, and your face against my chest— it’s all there, isn’t it? Ground yourself, Hongbin dear.”

Hongbin smiles, though he feels there’s something a bit off, that Taekwoon is speaking to him like a therapist— but again, Taekwoon is Hongbin’s therapist. Their relationship has gone beyond the boundaries of a professional one, and now their personal lives have clashed with each other.

Hard.

“What if someone finds out? Or even Dr. Cha?” Hongbin asks, paranoia flooding him at the reminder that what they have between them is forbidden, unethical, and all the other words that fall under illicit. Taekwoon only runs his hand through Hongbin’s hair, patting the crown of his head lightly as if to shush him, though the former seems to be deep in thought too.

“I won’t leave you.”

Hongbin’s ears perk up upon hearing this, as if astonished by the fact that the psychologist could read into the root cause of his anxiety— Taekwoon actually just wanted to know him more for the sake of helping his case, Taekwoon abandoning him at the end, Taekwoon choosing his job over him. He ends up overthinking again, and it doesn’t goes unnoticed; his nose bridge is suddenly being pinched playfully by Taekwoon, who’s laughing softly in assurance, “You dummy.”

To this, Hongbin smiles, and his dimples show, only eliciting more giggles from Taekwoon who fawns over the dent in his cheeks, finger prodding at it. “You’re cute,” he says, and Hongbin only smiles harder, blushing furiously. He nuzzles deeper, burying his face in the crook of Taekwoon’s neck and noses into prominent collarbones while he’s at it.

He’s hopelessly in love.

-

 _AHN HYOJIN, MD_  
_ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR, HEAD, NEUROPSYCHIATRY_

That was the name of Taekwoon’s boss when he worked at Seoul National University Hospital. She’s a sharp and brilliant woman, known for her quick diagnosing and solutions when faced with a tricky case. Everyone in the department respected her as head, and listening to her without fail.

Taekwoon included.

He scurried along after her with the whole team of psychologists and psychiatrists as they make their rounds, checking on patients to see if they’re stable to go home or if they require any change in inpatient therapy. The click of her heels stopped, and the whole team turned to the door she’s standing in front of. It’s the patient who survived a jump from Mapo Bridge.

“Dr Jung. Update me on his status.”

“Patient still has difficulty recognising faces. His memory seems affected due to the concussion he has suffered. Emotionally wise, it seems that he refuses to talk to anyone, including his boyfriend who has been visiting without fail. Probably has to do with the fact that he can’t tell who exactly are his loved ones,” Taekwoon said, flipping through the case file.

“And how’s your therapy with him?” Hyojin hummed, grabbing the case file from Taekwoon’s hands.

“He just refuses to talk. It’s hard,” Taekwoon sighed.

“All right, I’ll talk to his boyfriend if I can catch him. Hopefully we can come up with something that will not stress the patient out further,” Hyojin said, clicking her pen as she closed the case file.

With that, she walked away, and the team followed after her. Taekwoon stopped by the door though, peering through the small, rectangular window. There’s Hongbin, laying on his side as he weeped. Taekwoon felt his heart squeeze, he wanted to help him so bad.

Then there was a shout of his name from Hyojin, and he frowned, turning around to chase after the team to their next case.

-

Hongbin learns many things about Taekwoon in the span of a day.

He graduated top in his class at Harvard, he can sing really well, he has a nephew that he adores, he plays the piano— a proud owner of a grand piano too, and now he’s cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

“I’m making pasta,” Taekwoon says when Hongbin wraps his arm around his slender waist, resting his head on sturdy shoulders. They stay like this for a while: Taekwoon trying his best to not move too aggressively so he won’t knock Hongbin, Hongbin swaying the both of them in a subtle manner.

It disappears when Hongbin’s phone rings, who freezes at the sound. Taekwoon can feel the muscles in the Hongbin’s arm tense up before he releases his hold to pick up the call. He turns back and stares into the direction that Hongbin is so hurriedly heading towards to— the incoming call must be from Lee Jaehwan.

His grip on the spatula tightens, the area around his knuckles turning white. Taekwoon tries to keep his composure, not wanting jealousy to overtake him. ‘They’re just friends now, they’re just friends now, they’re just friends now’ — Taekwoon repeats in his head, and turns back to turn off the stove so he can start plating. He hears a rustle, and a frantic Hongbin who is scrambling around for his things and his sense of possessiveness only gets riled up by this.

“You’re leaving so quickly? You haven’t eaten anything yet.” Taekwoon points out flatly.

“Oh, it’s— it’s Jaehwan. He needs me at the publishing house—” Hongbin stutters, surprised by Taekwoon’s sudden cold tone. It isn’t a good idea to be talking about meeting his ex-boyfriend in front of his current boyfriend (really?) now, and apparently Taekwoon agrees too, because he has interrupted him with an aggressive kiss: tongue, teeth gnashing against each other and biting of lips.

Hongbin is suddenly backed up against the wall, the kiss only getting more heated, and he almost, almost— submits to Taekwoon’s advances, if only Jaehwan isn’t urgently looking for him since he wasn’t at his apartment the entire night. He pushes him off apologetically, opting for a kiss on the cheek before he’s heading for the door. Anxiety tears him apart as he does so, but work is calling, and a paranoid Jaehwan isn’t something he wants either.

Taekwoon only scratches at his neck awkwardly, waving goodbye to Hongbin reluctantly— until he hears Hongbin asking if he can come back to him tonight. The psychologist smiles tightly, “Of course you can. I’ll be waiting for you.”

There’s the sound of the door shutting and Taekwoon slams his palm against the wall.

-

“Hongbin?”

Red eyes responded slowly, there was a stubble grown around his chin and upper lip, and his body covered with bandages. It’s not an unusual sight having to see Hongbin like this, but his heart still breaks every single time. He wished to just hug Hongbin, but the latter is always too scared.

“Please, I don’t know who you are, I don’t wish to talk...” Hongbin croaked, trying to move further away. He’s scared. Weary. Exhausted.

“It’s me, Jaehwan, your boyfriend. Hongbin, please, you can talk to me.”

Hongbin shook his head, seeming more alarmed now. He knew he had a boyfriend, but is simply ashamed that he couldn’t recognise the figure in front of him. Jet-black hair, intense gaze, long legs and large shoulders— all these only seemed to intimidate him more.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he decided to approach him slowly. “You suffer from prosopamnesia, which means you are unable to recognises faces. It’s okay, Hongbin. We’ve known each other for four years. You can trust me, please.”

“I’m sorry… Please, just leave me alone,” Hongbin sniffled, and then crawled under the sheets to avoid the man’s gaze.

“I love you, Hongbin. Just remember that,” He sighed for the nth time, and then proceeded to leave the room.

-

“Where were you the whole of last night?” Jaehwan yawns as he questions Hongbin, worn out from trying to contact Hongbin when he wasn’t to be found anywhere. Hongbin doesn’t reply, and opts to put a hand on Jaehwan’s shoulder nervously, patting him in hopes it’ll reassure his best friend; he can’t talk about him and Taekwoon.

“At least you’re here and not knocked out with your clothes off.” Jaehwan sighs, and then claps his hand together to remind them of the focus for today— to review Hongbin’s progress for his debut novel.

“I’ve read this part, and it seems to be quite hazy. Everything about the protagonist’s love interest that’s being idealised here is sweet, but suddenly he’s sex-crazed when they meet in a club, then it turned out to be a hallucination. Are you perhaps trying to portray the character’s inner desire, by reflecting it on his love interest and how it’s slowly driving him crazy? The character is just a bit odd without context,” Jaehwan inputs, scrolling through Hongbin’s work to check if there’s anything else he missed out.

Hongbin seems to think for a bit. Are his desires really directing him towards insanity? He thinks about the events of last night again, and his mind starts to wander off, still unable to comprehend that everything that happened was real— even the kiss they just shared an hour ago, was it really real? Jaehwan is waving a hand in front of him, and he snaps out of his thoughts. Hongbin nods slowly in reply, a silent acknowledgement of his own personal desires.

The writer only furrows his brows as he goes through the scene of the club again. Something seems to be missing from his memory, and then he realises what Jaehwan has said after asking about his whereabouts, and he starts to freak out as the dots connect together..

“Is there something wrong? Hongbin?”

“Y-You found me in the toilet half…” Hongbin tries to ask, but can’t bring himself to complete the sentence, he doesn’t want what he’s thinking of to be true. He wants to believe what happened was just a mere hallucination.

“Naked? Yes, Hongbin, I did and I swear— I know we’ve seen each other before but that’s not how I want to find you—”

“I thought you just said you found me passed out in the toilet!” Hongbin is shouting at this point, delirious. He cannot believe what he’s hearing, can’t believe that he was blaming himself for being a pining pervert when it was all true.

The worst part of all? Taekwoon knew about his breakdowns but didn’t say anything. The betrayal manifests in his chest— it’s so tight he can’t breathe. Hongbin is sweating, his heartbeat erratic and the world spins as he struggles to breathe. He feels himself falling and falling, then the world turns to black as he hears Jaehwan yelling his name.

-

He had thanked the stranger who called him, and then sighed in exasperation as he looked at the state of his friend. Hongbin’s hair is dishevelled, lips swollen and pants not on properly. “Hakyeon?” Jaehwan asked, placing his phone in between his shoulder and ear as he tries to wake Hongbin up. “I think Hongbin has been drinking and he’s passed out at the moment, jesus. Does he need to get checked?”

“Physically speaking, not really. But why was he even out drinking until he’s that drunk? Any pills on him?” There was a faint sigh behind the line, and Hakyeon is obviously thinking about what to do with the information.

“No. He’s just… dishevelled. Messy. No signs of trauma though.”

He so badly wished to spray water on his friend’s face, only to end up grunting in annoyance as he attempted to carry Hongbin on his back. It failed though, because Hongbin is a deadweight, and it’s nearly impossible to manhandle the drunken man when he’s bigger than Jaehwan. The phone nearly slipped from its precarious position, causing Jaehwan to curse even more.

“You want to call me tomorrow morning instead? I think you should focus on helping him,” Hakyeon quipped, slight amusement in his voice from Jaehwan’s swearing.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Hak. I’ll let you know if there’s anything,” Jaehwan grunted, and then grabbed his phone before stuffing it in his pocket. He half carried Hongbin out of the toilet, groaning at the weight and muttering promises to murder his best friend the next day.

A flustered Taekwoon was behind them, running to the toilet to look for Hongbin, towel and a bottle of water in his hand. He opened the cubicle, and Hongbin has disappeared.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck, what—” Taekwoon cursed as he looks around the other cubicles, not finding Hongbin anywhere. His phone rang, and he cursed even more when he saw that it’s Hakyeon on the line.

“Just trying to fill you in. Apparently Hongbin drank till he passed out. Jaehwan found him and called me. Figured I should give you an update,” Hakyeon said, voice seemingly colder than usual. Taekwoon’s afraid that Hakyeon may know something, hence the phone call.

Taekwoon collects himself, and prayed to every god out there that his voice won’t shake and betray him, “His mood has been low recently, so I’m not surprised. I’ll arrange an earlier appointment with him. Thanks for telling me.”

“Mm. No problem, sorry to disturb.”

The phone call ends, and Taekwoon leans against the door of the cubicle, rubbing his face furiously. At least Hakyeon doesn’t seem to know anything, but Hongbin…

“Fuck.”

-

“Hakyeon. I think I’m getting too personal with a patient,” Taekwoon sighed, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. He thinks about the beaten up appearance of Hongbin and his heart aches again. He’s too deep in.

“Then you should talk to Hyojin,” Hakyeon replied casually, irritating Taekwoon.

“You know I’m only talking to you about this because you don’t actually work here right?” Taekwoon retorted— this is honestly his only way to vent, not when he has already broken so many professional boundaries. He couldn’t control his feelings and should have reported it immediately, but instead had let it grow into something bigger. He’s in love with Hongbin, his very own patient who is attached and also unable to recognise anyone.

He hated how he took advantage of that. He felt disgusting.

“Then quit if you can’t bear to tell Hyojin. Say you’re going to work at my clinic, and then actually work at my clinic,” Hakyeon was serious. He’s staring at Taekwoon, not wanting his best friend to lose his license, “You have to distance yourself.”

Taekwoon crushed the plastic container of the sandwich in his hand. He regretted bringing this up, but he knew that if he continues and Hakyeon finds out, he’ll tell on him.

“But I’m in love with him.”

To that, Hakyeon didn’t say anything more.

-

Jaehwan sat beside Hongbin on the hospital bed, and held his hand silently. He knew that Hongbin insisted on not seeing anyone, but he couldn’t help his anxiety. He wanted to care for Hongbin, wanted to be there for him, wanted to just hold him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he’s going through this difficult time.

“I thought I told you to go away,” Hongbin shouts, snatching his hand away from Jaehwan’s grasp.

“Hongbin, I’m Jaehwan, I’m your boyfriend, please don’t do this to me,” Jaehwan pleaded at that point of time, he just wanted to help Hongbin, wanted to take his pain, wanted to make him feel better.

“If you can get out the first time I told you to, then why not now? Please, out,” Hongbin cried, and threw a pillow at him. He felt lousy and horrible that he can’t even recognise his loved one, it’s as if he’s the scum of the earth.

“What do you mean? This is my first visit—” Jaehwan was utterly confused, he was sure he didn’t visit since two days ago, and Hongbin was pretty fine then, what did he mean by—

“Just get out! Please!” Hongbin was trashing at that point and Jaehwan took a step back, not wanting to agitate his lover further.  
With the harsh rejection breaking his heart, Jaehwan decided to give Hongbin space and proceeded to leave the room. Though suddenly, he felt a crunch underneath his shoes, and so he looked down to check what he had stepped on— it’s a staff card.

 

 _JUNG TAEKWOON, PhD_  
_SENIOR PSYCHOLOGIST, NEUROPSYCHIATRY_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually left quite a few hints and easter eggs if some part confuses you.... I'm so sorry that I'm constantly shifting from the past to present, but I need you guys to know the background story and what's exactly going through Taekwoon's head. If you want to know who I am and interact with me you can find me at @keomies ~


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